I See You
by Elssiana
Summary: Abigail smiled, looking at him with her blind eyes. "I see you with my heart, your music, your words. I need nothing more." Perhaps only the blind can help the Phantom see; to learn how to love again. Erik/OC
1. These Blind Eyes

**Hello all! First fanfiction in a LONG time! Comment and tell me what you think/where I should take it… :)**

**((Re-reading some of this because I was looking for something... I originally wrote this chapter not thinking that Abigail was blind, so some things are a little shaky as to whether or not she can do some of these things... If you get past this first chapter, I promise you it will be better hahahaha))**

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><p><em>If I were ever to be so bold and say that I have learned anything in my twenty-one years, it would be that time moves on. No matter what you do, you cannot stop it or reverse it. You can't simply slow it down or speed it up. Time will pass you by before you finish comprehending the questions that it poses. If you do not live each moment to its full potential, you will be busy wasting other moments regretting it. You will never get these moments back. Time, therefore, is the one constant in a world of variables; our world. Of course, many people probably do not give time a second thought. They are busy wasting their moments on small details, minuscule obstacles blocking their path to beauty and fortune, not knowing that their time is numbered, every second counting down to their last.<em>

_Some have more moments than others. Some people only have an hour's worth of moments to share with the world before they are taken away. Others have a decade's worth stashed away in their head, waiting for a friendly face to come along and share these experiences with in an old bar down the street. Many consider themselves fortunate to have these moments to share; they had lived each moment as if it would be their last, knowing that that final moment is coming sooner rather than later. Some wish that the moment in question would come quickly. These are the ones who have wasted their precious moments, their thoughts plagued by regret and shame. But what does one do in that situation? They have no fond memories to share with friendly faces in an old bar down the street, so they feel doomed to sit around and wait for their moments to simply end already. Frustrated and scarred, they unintentionally corrupt the world with their madness. _

Abigail stared at him. She imagined that his eyes would be slightly frightening; unmoving and piercing, she couldn't look away. An unnerving feeling swarmed her, she felt him stare into her. Keeping her cool, she pushed back the instinct to shudder. It took her awhile to get to this position in his mind. She would not let him win this one. She sensed every move he made, and he calculated hers.

Like a whip, she lashed out and snatched the last homemade chocolate chip cookie and dashed off into the streets of Paris.

"ABIGAIL!" Doug screamed, chasing after her into the night.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" she yelled back, clinging to the cookie for dear life, "IT'S MINE!"

This action is absolutely intolerable in Doug's mind. Homemade chocolate chip cookies from his grandmother were equivalent to gold, and not just one lousy chunk of it; we're talking a good five to one ratio here. Unfortunately, Abigail did not have five pounds of gold hanging around and had to resort to other measures. She had no choice, really.

She grabbed a small device from her pocket and hit it against her waist as she dashed down the familiar street. It popped open to expose a long black stick. Abigail cautiously moved it in front of her as she ran, carefully brushing it against the ground. Darting into an alley, Abigail dashed up the emergency ladder up to the rooftop, cookie in one hand, the cane in the other. She quickly grasped each familiar bar; however, in her haste, her hand slipped halfway up, leaving her hanging onto dear life with one hand. Gasping, she felt around before finding the ladder again and continued her ascent.

Army crawling to the edge of the roof, she listened intently. Hearing nothing, she sighed with relief and turned over onto her back, mentally preparing her taste buds for the ride of their life.

"Boo."

She must have jumped a foot into the air. Wide eyed Abigail stared into space as an eerie looking Doug loomed over her, looking into her foggy eyes. She smiled weakly. The shadow on him made it seem as though he were missing half of his face; the sight would have frightened her.

"Heh, heh. You know I was kidding right Doug? Right?" she said quickly. He carefully tapped her shoulder. She quickly surrendered the cookie to him, narrowing her eyes as she heard him pop the prize into his mouth.

"Yo mim wan pum om shome shoes." Doug said through a mouthful of heaven. He swallowed, and gave her an incredibly dashing half grin, forgetting she couldn't see it. He carefully grabbed each of her hands and helped her up. How she could navigate anywhere was a mystery to him; being blind never stopped her from anything. Shrugging, he pushed back his shoulder length jet black hair.

"One of these days I may actually get to eat one of those." Abigail pouted, holding onto his shoulder to let him guide her.

"Oh stop whining." Doug said, rolling his eyes as they walked over to the ladder. He knelt down and let her jump onto his back before he began to descend, "You must prove yourself first, young grasshopper."

She would settle for simply going back over his house tomorrow when he was out and ask his grandmother herself for one. Doug's grandmother was his only surviving relative. His entire family had died in a bus accident when he was only a year old; his mother, father, sister, and almost all of his uncles and aunts. Somehow he came out without a scratch; his grandmother had decided to not go on the trip all together. Now, they only had each other. She guessed he had her too, in a way. Perhaps that's why he was always so protective of her, even when he was two years younger than her.

Walking back to his house, Abigail retrieved her shoes and jacket. She made a mental note to return in the morning for some cookies, said her goodbyes, and vanished into the night. She lived only ten minutes away from Doug, and twenty minutes from town. Popping open her folding cane, she began to lead herself home, quickly becoming engulfed into her own mind, thinking of thoughts beyond comprehension to anyone else.

Abigail found her way to her doorstep. She kneeled down and found the edge of the "Welcome!" mat. Reminding herself to think of a better hiding spot for her key, she unlocked the door, and quickly stepped inside to keep the cold out. It was October, and things had quickly turned from chilly to freezing.

Putting away her jacket in its usual spot, she walked straight for twenty steps, turned left, and took another five paces before reaching her hand out, grabbing the invisible clock. She pushed the giant, apparently red, button. It immediately stated in a clear woman's voice, "One twenty three AM."

Cursing at herself, she traced her steps backwards into the hall, passing by her radio, bookshelf, and armchair on her way out. She then walked back ten steps, steps to the left slightly, and cautiously moved forward until her right foot hit the first step of her staircase. She quickly climbed them, walked five steps forward, and turned into the room on her left. Slipping off her boots, Abigail deposited her clothes into the laundry bin at the very edge of her room. Taking the pajamas folded neatly upon her bed, she dressed, walked into the bathroom across the hall, and followed her usual routine before slipping into bed twenty minutes later.

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><p>"You know, there are other ways of attracting men."<p>

"Mmmhhffff…" muttered Abigail, her long dark brown curls covering the pale face that was seemingly glued to the desk, eyes never to open again.

Aimee giggled at the sight of her tiny friend. Her converse just barely touched the ground as she sat at the desk in the library (She was only about 5'3''). It was apparently a sweat pants kind of day for her beloved Abigail, dressed to impress in her grey sweats with holes at the bottom and a matching blue t-shirt to top it off. The snoring just added to the look.

Abigail looked up, her eerie smoky eyes staring in the general direction of Aimee. She had deep blue eyes and straight blonde hair, hourglass shaped body with all the right stuff in all the right places. She was an actress and a singer. Abigail was almost her polar opposite. Aimee beamed when Abigail looked at her.

"Oh hello there sleepy head! Thought you would never wake up!"

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Oh don't be silly! You have to get up, today you're going to help me with my audition for the musical."

"Am I?"

"You promised!"

"Did I?"

"Yes."

Abigail mentally punched herself. If there was one thing she detested more in this world than not having her piano to play, it would be to help Aimee with her singing. It always made her feel jealous of her flawless voice; her own was nothing compared to Aimee's.

"Yeah, whatever." She mumbled

"Yayyyy!" Aimee cried out, "Well, come on, its lunch time." She noted as she glanced at her watch.

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><p>"I think you missed a note there." Abigail commented passively, staring off into the distance.<p>

"WHAT? Where?" Aimee cried, snatching the _Masquerade_ song from Abigail's hands and searching it intensely for the line. Abigail wasn't sure why she made her hold it for her, it's not like she could read it.

Simply things like being unable to read pained her beyond belief. Not only being forced to hold a useless object, but the fact that Aimee was in the best acting school around made her overwhelming jealous. She wanted to learn, to go to school. Unfortunately, no music school would take a blind girl. She had so much potential, wanted to do so much more with her life. She wanted to play, to learn to dance, to read with her eyes and not her hands. Life had simply chosen her to suffer.

"Just kidding." Abigail said with a painful laugh, carefully prying the song book from Aimee's clutch. She sighed with relief.

"Don't scare me like that! This is my FAVORITE musical and I want to be Christine SOOOO badly!" she said, clasping her hands together and fluttering her eyes at the thought of it. Abigail looked her the direction of her voice.

"Can you imagine it, Abigail? Me, at the front of the stage, singing Think of Me!" she cried out. Abigail slapped her forehead, waiting for the incoming music.

_Think of me, think of me fondly _

_When we've said goodbye!_

_Remember me once in awhile _

_Please promise me, you'll try!_

"Well, look at the time, I better work on… Something. You know, at home. Away." She said quickly before Aimee could come to her senses. Darting out of the room, Abigail grabbed her bag and jacket before sprinting out the door. She lived about fifteen minutes from Aimee, who lived only five minutes from town. A last minute thought crossed her mind as she quickly turned toward the city to get some shopping done.

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><p>"Ah, yes, hello Abigail!" said the cheery old man at the register, "I'll be with you in a moment dear!"<p>

Abigail smiled weakly at the manager. She had been coming to the same grocery store for the past year; when she first arrived John immediately noticed her disability and quickly helped her. Now, whenever she would come in she simply walked over to a register and hope he was somewhere nearby.

She listened as he cleared something up with an employee, and walked over to her, "Come this way, dear!" John said with a smile, taking her hand and putting it on his shoulder. They made their way around the store, John pushing a shopping cart as Abigail listed off items she needed.

"Do you know if there are any new books in, John?" Abigail asked hopefully.

"No dear, sorry. I spoke with Alex but he said nothing came in." John said sadly. Abigail had John speak with the local bookshop owners to see if they had any new novels in Braille. She had already read all of the ones in her house at least twice. She thirsted for something different, something exciting. John saw her disappointment and quickly said, "Don't worry Abigail, something will come in soon!"

She smiled, "Thanks, John. Doug will pick me up near the door today."

"Of course!"

They walked back to the register. As John fiddled with the register, Abigail pulled out her wallet to pay. Bills were folded in different ways, each bill having a different fold in them so she could tell which ones they were.

John looked at the screen after processing the food; it said $34.45.

"Twenty-three dollars, forty –five cents." John said confidently.

Abigail handed him over a twenty, folded in half, and a five, the right edge of it folded to the left side. John took the money and handed her back her 'change', the ones already folded in half twice for her.

"Thanks John." Abigail said with a smile, reaching out for the bags. John placed them in her arms and led her to the door, opening up the folding cane for her and handing it to her.

"Not a problem, dear! Have a nice day!"

"You too!"

"What about me?" Doug said with a pout, standing nearby.

"You take care of her now!" John warned as he walked back inside.

"Yeah, Doug. Take care of this would you?" Abigail smirked, holding out the bags.

"You know, I found some more sheet music for you." Doug said, shaking the paper in his hand for her to hear. Abigail grinned widely.

"Oh you shouldn't have! Now you get to read it to me."

Back at home, Abigail walked twenty steps forward, passed the stairs, and walked directly over to her carefully placed piano. Doug followed her, flipping on the unused light switch. The light in the hall didn't even go on.

Doug shook his head, went to the cupboard and grabbed the last light bulb. Abigail began to play the piano as he replaced it. After arranging her groceries in her kitchen as she liked them, Doug walked into the room as her hands danced over the keys, her eyes closed, completely engaged in her song. She had written it herself just after her parents left for the United States for a better life; not having to deal with a blind child.

He felt angry for Abigail. How could her parents simply walk out on her? She had not been born blind; it had actually been her parent's negligence that had caused her disability.

Abigail could sense Doug watching her as she finished the song, "Are you coming?" she asked, teasing.

"Yes ma'am."

Abigail scooted over on the bench to let Doug sit down. He placed the song in front of him and scanned the pages, "Hmmm, I don't know, Abigail. Seems pretty complicated."

She glared, "Oh shut up and just read it."

Doug read off the notes one by one, telling her the pauses and holds. He had learned to read sheet music for this. When he had met her, she had been in the music room at school, crying over the piano.

_Doug nervously looked at the girl sitting at the piano. Her shoulders were bent forward, eyes pouring themselves out onto her hands. Unsure of what else to do, he walked over to her and sat down on the bench. The girl jumped in fright, slamming her hands on the keys. _

"_Who are you?" she asked, afraid. Doug looked at her. She did not look back._

"_My name is Doug!" he said with a smile. Her lower lip quivered. _

"_Abigail."_

"_Are you okay?" _

"_I cannot read my song that I need to learn." She said, bursting out crying again. Doug frowned. _

"_Did you not learn to read them when you learned piano?" Doug asked_

"_No. I taught myself." She sniffed. She looked in his general direction. _

_Doug froze. Her eyes. They were glazed over, seemingly dead. It looked as though a deep fog surrounded them. Then, he realized she was blind. _

_What was he supposed to do? He frowned and scratched his tiny head. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. _

"_I will read it to you!" he said excitedly _

"_You know how to read them?" Abigail asked hopefully_

"_Uh, no. But I can learn for you!"_

"_You would do that?" _

"_Of course!"_

She had the song memorized within the hour. Abigail smiled to herself and held out a hand to Doug. He gave it a high-five and laughed.

"You're really good at this, Abigail." Doug commented as he got up, grabbing his keys. Among the numerous jiggling keys, a copy of the one to Abigail's house was there, marked with an "A". She was unaware of this, and he planned on keeping it that way.

"Thanks bro." she said laughing, her hands gliding across the keys, experimenting with her newly found song.

Ten minutes after Doug left, Abigail's phone began to ring. Sitting on a small table directly next to the piano, she simply snatched it up and spoke.

"Abigail speaking."

"Abigail!" said a cheery Aimee, "You won't believe this! They're opening the Opera House back up!"

"What? It's been closed since like, forever."

"I know! Apparently they had been secretly renovating it! Its opening tomorrow! Oh Abigail, we HAVE to go see it! PLEASE?"

"Aimee, I can't even see."

"Oh, right. But will you come with me? Maybe you can play on the organ that the phantom played on! OOoooOOooo!"

Abigail frowned. While she did not believe in the Opera Ghost, she did indeed enjoy listening to the music he created when Aimee made her sit through the movie. She sighed.

"Yeah, whatever, I'll go."

She winced as she heard a high-pitched squeal from the other end.

"Oh, I love you Abigail! I'll pick you up at noon tomorrow! Eeee!" the line went dead.

I shrugged and went back to my piano.

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><p><strong>Ahhh! Took me so long to decide to finally go with this, so maybe different options. Comment with ideasthoughts!**


	2. Alone in the Dark

**Second chapter! Whoo! Good job for getting past the introduction/setting chapter! There were some pointless things in the last chapter, yes, but they are necessary for later on! Now we get into the meat :)**

** I see all of you who have favorited it/alerts! I know you are there! COMMENT! Give me your opinion and share your ideas!**

**Also, forgot to say before, I obviously do not own any sort of song that I use in this story nor do I own the character Erik (Phantom). If I did, that would be pretty cool.**

**Ilovetangled: Thank you! I'm pretty excited with it too; I hope its good :P**

**RedDeathLvr: I'm still deciding where I'm going to be taking this. Several ideas are floating around in my head :P And thank you :)**

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><p><em>People say that life is full of chances, of luck. They say that with a simple roll of the dice your entire life is then charted out in front of you; who you will be born to, what will happen to you, who you will meet, what you will do, how you will act. This sort of fate seems far too… random. How can someone decide all of that in one roll of dice? Who is even rolling the dice? What if someone does not like the path that they have been given?<em>

_I, for one, do not believe in fate. If I am doomed to live the life that I am, why would I live it? Why should I be forced to do something I do not wish? Was I meant to become blind and abandoned? No; these things were a response to the choices that other people have made. Altering their paths, they have altered mine. Should I chose to create a different path for myself, I believe that I would also alter other people's lives, but why would I want to do that? I am satisfied with my life. Not happy; there is a very big difference between happy and content. There is also a large difference between content and displeased. However, if I were to be displeased with my life, and attempting to change my path fails, why would I want to live anyway? Why would I sit around in my hopelessness and anger, corrupting everything around me? _

Beethoven was everywhere; around her, consuming her, enthralling her. She lay in bed simply listening to him play, notes rising and falling, dancing in her ears. The song soon faded away, giving up to the inevitable sound that followed.

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

Abigail sighed. She hit the button on her alarm clock, swung her legs off her bed, and stretched her arms in the arm. After a loud _crack _of her back, she slowly made her way into her bathroom and began her day.

Turn on bathtub. Brush teeth. Stop bathtub. Wash self. Shampoo. Conditioner. Drain tub. Change clothes (A pair of jeans, black boots, and a simple black sweater. At least she hoped that they were). Brush out annoying knots in hair. Eat lucky charms cereal. Play piano. Hope nobody was in her house all the while.

The doorbell rang, announcing Aimee's arrival. Abigail heard her jump through the door, heels clicking on the wooden floor.

"Gooooood morning sunshine! And how did we sleep last night?" Aimee yelled over the rapid notes Abigail played. She paused.

"Alright, I guess."

She resumed playing.

Aimee walked over to her and watched her hands move across the keys, not hesitating for a moment. She smiled at them; she was proud of her friend, and slightly jealous of her skills. Abigail had tried to teach her to play a few years ago only to fail when she realized her hands were nowhere near as talented as her voice.

"Well," Aimee said after a minute, "We should get going. It's almost eleven thirty," she stated, looking at her watch, "and we should be there before they officially open."

Abigail finished the song and nodded. Locking the door behind them, the pair made their way into Aimee's car and drove off into town.

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><p>"Parking is so annoying!" Aimee complained as she struggled to find a parking spot on the busy streets.<p>

Abigail laughed at her struggles. "Oh look, there's one!" she exclaimed, pointing straight ahead of her.

"Where?" Aimee cried, searching desperately.

Abigail laughed, "God, you're blind Aimee. It's right there!"

Aimee blinked, realized the joke, and laughed, "Thanks Abigail. I can count on you."

After finding parking, the two began to make their way to the Opera House. Abigail listened for some sort of crowd or movement; only the small buzz of a lazy Sunday morning met her ears.

"Aimee, I thought you said that the Opera House was open today."

"Oh! It is." Aimee said nervously, glancing at Abigail.

"Then why are there no people?" Abigail asked, confused.

"Well, it's not opening to the general public just this moment."

"What?"

"Well, it kind of just went into renovation like, last week?"

Abigail grew angry, "I thought you said it was finished! What are you doing?" she hissed as she heard the gates open.

"Well it's open for the renovators, but they're off today. I just thought we could maybe go in and like, take a peek maybe?" Aimee said weakly, clinging to Abigail's wrist.

"Are you insane? What if we're caught? What would we say?"

"Nobody's inside! I just want some kind of inspiration for my singing, you know? The auditions are in a couple days and I need to have some sort of insight on what the people had! It's an acting thing, Abigail, you wouldn't understand."

Abigail sighed. She knew she should have never trusted Aimee. Secret construction on the most famous building in the general area? Please. How stupid of her to believe such a thing.

"Whatever, Aimee. If we are caught, I'm saying you kidnapped me and I have no idea who you are. And you know what? They're going to believe me."

Aimee rolled her eyes before quickly dragging her friend inside the gates, shutting them behind her. As they made their way up the large door Aimee couldn't help but marvel at the beauty; not even a hundred years could take away from the pure excitement that it drew from people.

Aimee grabbed hold of the handle and gave it a tug. It wouldn't budge.

"Fuck. Abigail, its locked." Aimee said, pulling a small hair pin out of her hair, "I need you to open it."

Abigail narrowed her eyes as Aimee placed the pin in her hand, "I hate you."

"I love you too." Aimee said quickly, putting Abigail's hand on the lock. Abigail got to work, feeling and listening as she twisted and turned the pin until a small _click _told them the doors were now accessible. Abigail pushed the door open and handed the pin back to Aimee.

"Now look what you've done Aimee. My powers have been used for evil."

"Hush up," Aimee said as she grabbed Abigail's wrist, "You could have said no."

Abigail frowned. It was true, why did she not simply say no? It's not like she wanted to be here, right? After all, what did she have to see here? Nothing; she couldn't even see. The pair made their way inside.

"Ugh! I can't see anything, it's so dark!" Aimee cried.

"You poor soul." Abigail said, taking her folding cane out of her boot and opening it, "I'll lead then."

Abigail tapped the cane against the ground, feeling the vibrations off the walls and listening to the small echoes it created. Since her eyes had become useless, her hearing and other senses became much stronger to compensate.

"I can't believe a blind person is about to lead." Aimee laughed.

"You're so incompetent Aimee." Abigail smirked in reply, "This way."

Abigail moved slowly through the grand hall, her cane occasionally hitting against a statue or wall. They eventually made their way into a much larger room.

"Hmm…" Abigail said, tapping her cane and moving it around. She hit into something. Grabbing at it, Abigail felt something squishy. Upon further inspection, Abigail laughed and said, "Aimee, these are the seats! We're in the opera room!"

Aimee squealed with glee as they continued down the aisle. After locating the stairs leading onto the stage, Aimee's eyes had adjusted enough to see things very dimly. She quickly made her way into the middle of the stage, looking about, abandoning Abigail.

Leaving Aimee to herself, Abigail explored backstage. She ran into several abandoned props, a couple of dusky ropes, and then ran directly into a large object. After feeling around, she realized that it was a piano. Overwhelmed with excitement, she dropped the cane and quickly took off the covering on the piano. Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment, frozen with anticipation. What should she play on an actual piano in the actual Opera House where the actual Phantom lived? She quickly decided to play a piece from the musical itself. Why not? The Phantom of the Opera was the only choice!

She began the piece; its dramatic beginning made Aimee yell in fear for a moment before realizing who was playing. Abigail ignored her, already consumed in the song. Even though it sounded different on a piano rather than an organ, its melody was still unique; it drew you in and did not let you go until the end. Aimee began to sing.

_In sleep he sang to me in dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name_

_And do I dream again? For now I find_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind._

She continued to play, getting more and more into the song as her hands danced across the keys. She couldn't help it; once she began a piece from the musical she had to finish it. If she stopped, it would plague her mind until she finished it later on.

It was the phantom's turn to sing. Abigail could almost hear him singing his part, it seemed so clear in her mind.

_**Sing once again with me our strange duet **_

_**My power over you grows stronger yet**_

_**And though you turn from me to glance behind**_

_**The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind.**_

_Those who have seen your face draw back in fear_

_I am the mask you wear, __**it's me they hear.**_

Abigail sensed Aimee walking towards her slowly, still singing. Although, it sounded more like the Phantom to her now for some reason. She pushed off the thought, assuming it was simply her music playing tricks on her.

_**My spirit and my voice in one combined**_

_**The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind.**_

Abigail almost laughed at Aimee as she got the line mixed up, but continued to play. She couldn't stop now, she was far too deep into the music to care.

_Beware, the Phantom of the Opera!_

_Is that the Phantom of the Opera? _ABIGAIL!

Her hands froze at Aimee's scream. She sounded nowhere near her, and yet she felt her so close. So close in fact that she felt her breath on the back of her neck.

"Aimee?" she sputtered

"Play, my angel... do not stop now." Came a dark voice from behind.

Abigail jumped, falling off of the seat. She frantically felt around for her cane, only to hear it picked up by the strange voice.

"What is this?" It asked, puzzled.

"P-please… Leave me alone." She cried, sliding further back behind the stage. She heard the soft footsteps stepping closer as she backed farther away.

"SILENCE!" the voice boomed

"AIMEE!" she screamed before a hard object connected with the side of her head, and then nothing.

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><p>Aimee sprinted from the Opera House, gasping for breath. She slammed the doors behind her and charged through the gates, racing to her car. Her hand dove inside her pocket, wrenched the keys from its inner depths, and rapidly pressed the unlock button as she stopped next to it.<p>

"_SHIT SHIT SHIT, OPEN_!" she screamed as she frantically pulled at the handle. She finally paused, let the door unlock, and dove inside before locking it behind her. She stared wide-eyed at the Opera House gasping for breath, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

What just happened?

She remembered standing on the stage, Abigail starting to play. She then began to sing too until she noticed something moving along the upper floor of the room. She had paused, looking around until hearing something other than Abigail's music. Aimee remembered looking towards her and seeing a massive dark figure slowly walking towards Abigail. She had stared at the apparition wide-eyed, wanting to warn her. She had just been so frightened...

She then sang out the warning in the song until her normal voice had come back to her and yelled out to Abigail, but it was too late.

She remembered hearing her hit the floor and yelling. She was so confused and afraid. She left her friend and saved herself.

Why would she do that? What kind of friend was she? Aimee burst out into tears. She couldn't go to the police; they would then know she had trespassed onto private property. She couldn't go to Doug, how would he react when he found out that she had abandoned the girl he loved and cared for? She let out another sob. Abigail might never know how Doug felt about her now. Excellent.

But what would happen once Doug found out she was missing? He was bound to find out. Aimee was a horrible liar. An actress, yes. A liar, no. Figuring that it would be better to rip off the band-aid than to let it peel off slowly, she started the car and headed off to Doug's.

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><p>Beethoven was everywhere; around her, consuming her, enthralling her. She lay there, listening and feeling the notes rise and fall through her mind. It slowly died away, and Abigail waiting for the inevitable beep of her alarm clock. It didn't come.<p>

Rather, she heard footsteps walking from the source of the music slowly to her general direction. She sat up and opened her eyes to the usual darkness. It was cool in this odd place, and smelled of water. Feeling around her, she noticed she was not in her own bed, but of a much softer one.

"Who are you." A dark voice demanded.

"What?" Abigail asked the darkness.

"Who. Are. You. It is a simple question and I demand a simple response."

Abigail raised an eyebrow. She reached out only to discover that there was a curtain surrounding her, "Well, I could ask you the same question."

"Do you try to trick me foolish girl! You came into my Opera House, search around, and you think I do not know for what? I have seen your people come in and out of here for the past week, tidying the place up, trying to make it look nice again, looming about. I thought I made it quite clear with every other last person who has come looking for me that I will not be bothered!" the voice shouted.

Abigail froze in horror. His opera house? She raked her brain through memories of Aimee describing the musical to her, trying to picture where she was. Suddenly she remembered Aimee telling her that the Phantom's lair was underground, surrounding by water. She tried to swallow, but found her mouth dry.

"Are you… The Phantom?" she asked nervously.

"Are you blind, you insolent fool? Of course I am!" the phantom screamed, jumping up to the curtains and throwing them back, surely exposing himself to her, she imagined.

"Yes. I am." She stated angrily, looking at what she hoped was his face.

Silence. It lasted for awhile. She wasn't sure how long it took, but finally the Opera Ghost came to his senses.

"I did not know." He explained, "If I did, you would not be here."

"Why?" Abigail asked, furious, "Because I'm useless? Can't do anything, eh? Gotta have someone to look after me all the time, make sure I don't trip over a fucking dandelion!"

"No. I did not want someone who is blind to have to navigate an area with water around it for the rest of their life."

Abigail froze. The rest of her life? What was he talking about?

"What? My life? Are you insane?"

"No. Simply unwilling to kill a foolish little girl." The Phantom replied. Abigail frowned.

"Where is Aimee? Did... you kill her?"

"Your little friend?"

"Yes!"

"She ran off at the sight of me." He hissed.

Abigail slowly dropped her head. Aimee had run off without her. It would have been too much of a hassle to have to drag her along to freedom. She was alone with a mad man. Nobody would come after her. They probably thought she was dead.

The Phantom threw something on the bed, "I believe that this is yours then."

Abigail felt around before finding her folding cane. She nodded quickly.

"Yes. Thank you." She murmured.

"You might as well… what is it, get your bearings? Feel the place out? You shall be here for awhile." The Phantom said sharply before he started to walk away.

"Wait! What do you mean? Why don't you just let me go?" Abigail called after him.

"Why would I let you go when you know that I am alive?"

"But I can't even fucking see you! They would think I am insane! How would I lead people back to this place? I don't even know what it looks like!" she cried, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"IT MATTERS NOT WHAT MY REASONING IS," the phantom screamed as he rushed back to her, shoving his face an inch away from her own, "Only that I have made the decision, and YOU _SHALL OBEY IT_!"

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><p><strong>OoooOOooo! I hope you liked the second chapter better!<strong>

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	3. Reaching Out to Nothing

**Hello all! Thank you thank you for your reviews... Those of you putting on the alert and adding to favorites thank you as well, but leave a review! It means the world to me :D**

**I take no ownership of the character of Erik/Phantom or anything that I take from the movie.**

**I'm going to start putting things in Erik's POV more... Its hard to write most of everything from Abigail's POV; I can't describe anything! **

**THANK YOU AND ENJOY!**

**RedDeathLvr: Yes, yes she is! I'm still working out whats shes going to do next :P**

**PhantomFan01: Thank you for your review! Keep on reviewing, and I'll keep writing :D**

**TheLoverofNight: Thank you! I really love writing it, so I'm equally excited :)**

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><p><em><em><strong><span>WARNING: I have midterms coming up, so it will take a tiny bit longer for the next chapter to come out... Sorry!<span> **_  
><em>

_Searing, burning, consuming hate; surrounding, controlling, intoxicating fear, spinning and spinning around and around! Abandon me, leave me… ignore me! Slam the door shut, lock it and throw away the key. Don't trust me. Leave me be in this shallow world..._

_Alone and forsaken; abused and forgotten… _

_Cruel, cruel world… why…Why…. WHY? _

_Nothing from the beginning, doomed from the start! Never a chance at life! Overcome with anxiety, searching, pleading… Humiliation. Pain. Tears. _

_NO! Never again… Run, hide, cower. _

_Survive__._

_If there is one thing that all people have in common, it is their will to survive. Nothing else matters. Only the thought of the next meal, or perhaps the protection of oneself against another is everyone's goal. To live to see the next day is why we live. We all have our own different ways of doing it; these different ways cause issues and cause confusion. With these differences that we find in one another, we do not realize how different we must look to the other person. Only with putting down our thirst for survival will we finally be able to embrace one another, to accept each other for what they are. _

_Without the fear of judgement or pain, we see clearer, and have the ability to love._

Abigail lay in the bed, surrounded by fear. She was cold and hungry but knew of no way to fix this. The blankets were useless. She could not eat the pillow, no matter how much it felt like a marshmallow. Maybe if she simply…

She was going mad.

How long had she lain there? Her tears had long since run dry. She felt as if there were no water left in her body to bring forth. Abigail desperately wanted to get up, to leave the bed, to do something, but what? What if she fell off into the water? She did not know how to swim.

She hiccup escaped from her lips, her throat still tight from the fit she had. She wasn't sure where the Phantom was throughout the whole ordeal; she hadn't heard him over her sobs. Was he gone? She prayed so. After a moment of thought, she finally decided on getting up.

Hissing as she lifted her limp body from the sheets, she realized just how long she had been laying there. Abigail snatched up her cane, opened it, and began to feel around before forcing herself onto the ground.

It was a slow process. She slowly walked around the small circular bed, feeling about. After deciding that she could get out on any side of it, she stored the information for later on. She steadily made her way around, hitting her cane against various objects. She discovered that in the immediate area there was what appeared to be a wardrobe, mirror, and a small table with a candlestick on it.

Moving down to the sound of water, she suddenly gasped as she tripped down and fell onto her face.

"_FUCK_." She screamed, making a mental note of a couple stairs leading into the "bedroom", or perhaps just a level change? She didn't care.

Rubbing her nose, she moved on. It took about half an hour to get a general idea of the area. After almost falling into the water twice, almost shattering an elbow, and bruising her knee, she discovered that the entire area she was on was only about fifty large paces. In the center there was a wooden table, what kind she was unsure of. Towards the east was a large organ (she refrained from playing it out of fear the Phantom would return), to the west was a small door that she could not open. Scattered around were books, pieces of paper, a few chairs, another large mirror, and plenty of candles all about.

Abigail frowned. In this entire adventure, she had not found one thing to eat. Worse still, she had not found one way of escaping.

Suddenly, she heard a steady splash in the water echoing off of the walls. She froze. Who was it? What was it? Should she hide?

She quickly dashed off in the direction of the bedroom. It was a much less sneaky escape than she could have hoped for. Somehow she had forgotten the level change, smashed her foot into the solid rock, and smashed into the ground.

"FUCK MY LIFE." She screamed in pain, clutching her foot as she rolled around in agony.

Abigail heard a small _thud _of an object connecting with the lair's rock ground, followed by a set of feet jumping onto it, marching over toward her. Someone leaned over her; she felt their eyes examine her pitiful sight.

"If you wish to survive, you must learn faster." Came a dark hiss, not amused in the slightest.

"Well perhaps if you drew a map for me-"

"_Silence_!" came a yell before a hand connected with her cheek. She dropped her head to the ground, gasping for breath.

She looked back up to the voice, tears welling in her ghostly eyes. She desperately wanted to see who she was dealing with; perhaps it may give her some insight on how to act around him. But she simply did not know. She was so confused and hurt; he had taken her and now it seemed as if he would just abused her for no reason. What kind of life was she to live?

A deep sigh came from the dark. The Phantom snatched her wrist with his gloved hand and pulled her to her feet before dragging her to a chair at the table.

"I assume you are hungry." He snapped before walking off in the direction of the water.

"Y-yes…" Abigail whispered. She heard him rustling around with something before returning to the table and setting down a noisy brown paper bag. She frowned.

"There is food in here." He said quickly, noticing her confusion, "I normally do not keep much around, but since you are not used to… my diet, I decided to not let you starve and bring you some things."

She heard him dump the contents of the bag onto the table. She hesitated, not sure if she should take something.

Silence.

"Well,_ eat something_!" the Phantom yelled impatiently.

Abigail jumped, startled. She quickly reached out and grabbed the first thing her hand landed on. It was a cucumber. Abigail didn't even like cucumbers. Placing it in front of her, she reached out and found a bag of lettuce. Irritated, she continued looking, only to find things of the same nature.

"I'll just, uh, make a salad…" she murmured, afraid to ask him to buy more suitable food next time.

"Very well." The Phantom said, turning and wandering off into the direction of the organ.

"Uhm..."

She heard the Phantom freeze. She gulped and quickly stammered out, "You wouldn't happen to have a bowl and fork would you."

"No." he said harshly.

She quickly nodded, and he turned away again. Abigail scratched her head. How was she supposed to make a salad without even a bowl?

Her thoughts drowned away at the sound of the music. Such wonder tone, beautiful notes, spectacular execution of the rhythm. She was enthralled at the sudden beauty of the air around her, amazed at how much happiness suddenly entered her soul. She did not want to listen to anything else for the rest of her life. Abigail laid her head on top of the lettuce bag and shut her eyes, letting the music go through her. She song faded away as quickly as it began.

"_Are you asleep_?" came a shout from the organ. Abigail jumped up and quickly opened the bag.

"No! No, I'm not. I'm making the salad." She said hastily.

The music began again. It took every ounce of control to keep herself from listening again. She forced her mind to concentrate at the matter at hand; how to make a salad without a bowl. Or a fork. Or decent food.

She sensed eyes on her as she sat, contemplating the task at hand. Suddenly feeling pressured, she decided on simply eating the entire bag right then and there. She grabbed the cucumber, realizing she needed a knife. Abigail cursed at herself for deciding on such a difficult meal to make.

The music stopped. Steps began to shuffle around, and then made their way over to her. She was quickly beginning to recognize them as the Phantom's. They were very distinct; silent and yet sharp. Purposeful.

A whistle came through the air, tearing an inch away from her face before a sharp _twang!_ hit the table in front of her. She twitched away from it.

"Take it." The Phantom demanded. Abigail kept her face down, reaching out to the object.

A sharp pain shot up her hand as she felt her finger slice open. She hissed, quickly drawing it back.

"Are you an idiot?" The Phantom snapped, grabbing her hand away from her and inspecting it. She did not reply this time, head returning to its shameful downward stare. A moment passed before he let go, left, and returned with a cloth. He torn it and wrapped it around her finger, "Be more careful when I present you with sharp objects." He sneered.

"I didn't know." Abigail whispered.

"Well, there is a finely jeweled dagger in front of you, _so you know_. Use it; do not break it." The Phantom said before walking back to his organ.

Abigail shook her head. How was she supposed to survive down here? He just did not understand. She admitted it; she was extremely incompetent. She was a blind vegetable that couldn't do anything herself. But the least he could do was recognize that she was in the dark and tell her things she should know.

She reached out with more caution this time. Feeling around, she found the hilt of the dagger and pulled it out of the table where it had been jammed into. She used it to cut up the cucumber into small pieces toss them into the bag. After her search for other things to add into her makeshift salad, she swallowed her pride, shoved her hand into the bag, and shoving the mess into her mouth.

"I'll buy some utensils tomorrow." The Phantom said, a slight hint of disgust in his tone.

Abigail sighed, a spare bit of cucumber flying onto the table.

* * *

><p>Erik moaned.<p>

This girl would be much more of a problem than he anticipated. If he knew she was blind when she was playing, he would never have taken her. He would have rather killed her than to have to deal with a useless lump of flesh around.

But she wasn't useless. No, not at all.

The way she played, the way the music drew him in… It was nothing compared to the dull singing of other girl. Her voice had no passion, no feeling. But this girl… He had not heard someone play like that since, well, him.

His fantasy acted before his mind. He snatched at the one thing that made him have some sort of feeling other than the hatred and anger and stole it away for himself. Erik did not wish to share this jewel in a basket of rocks. Nobody could take away the music from him. He would destroy anyone who would.

Erik paused, realizing he had been pacing back and forth. He looked over to the swan bed where the girl was asleep. After she had eaten, the girl had quickly fled back to it. He wondered where he would sleep. Not that he needed much of it.

Walking over to the bed, he watched the girl sleep. She seemed pretty much out; he felt safe enough to approach. Stalking up to her side, he kneeled down and gazed at her eyes, knowing underneath lay nothing but a white fog. Erik frowned. He had not been very conscious of that today. He was not used to having someone around, let alone someone who could not see anything.

How was he supposed to deal with this? He grew angry with himself again. Why did the world have to be so cruel? He finally found something he could look to for some sort of peace and it turned out to be broken. He wanted to hit her again, this horrible mess that he forced upon himself, but stopped himself. It would be bad to make her mad at him. What if she refused to play for him later because of it?

Erik stood up, still watching her. Her breaths came out evenly. She was still wearing the same clothes that he had stolen her in; some ugly black sweater, a pair of, what were they called? jeans?, and black boots. He would need to buy some clothes for her or risk the place smelling of body odor. What else did she need? He felt like he had just gotten his very first pet and was clueless as to whether it used a litter box, or needed to take it outside. Erik sighed.

Walking out of the room, he grabbed a spare piece of paper and made his way over to the organ. He sat down, taking the pen from its small container, and paused as he was about to label his list.

What was the girl's name?

He didn't even bother to ask. Erik mentally slapped himself. How could he be keeping some girl here and not even know her name? What if she asked him his? Would he tell her? Of course not. She knew who _he_ was.

He settled for naming the list, "Girl's Shopping List". He shook his head at the ridiculous title, but continued on.

_Girl's Shopping List_

_New Clothes_

_New pair of shoes_

_Different food_

_Plates, bowls, forks, spoons, knives, cups_

_Water/Other drinking things_

_Bathing materials (?)_

_Extra towel(s)_

_Hair things (?)_

_Things for blind people _

Erik frowned at his less than satisfactory list. It was rather vague—he didn't know what else to put. Should he ask the girl to write a list for him? No. She probably couldn't even write. What he got would have to be enough. Erik left the list out to let the ink dry. Looking down to the keys, he closed his eyes, ready to begin playing when he paused. Would he wake the girl if he played? He narrowed his eyes.

Everything was revolving around this stupid little girl now! His entire life seemed to have change now that he had to… _care _for this foolish being. He could not even play without his mind drifting off to her! Erik growled to himself. No. He would not care if she woke. He would play his organ if he wished!

He slammed his hands onto the keys, grinning madly at the enormous sound that bellowed out of them. He did not stop; he continued on, gliding his hands across the keys as the notes blended together in a beautiful mess of sound. It grew more and more wild, seemingly having no purpose until suddenly it all made sense. The notes fit together perfectly in one's ear; it was a calculated chaos. When all seemed lost, at the last moment, it was as if the light had shone upon you and showed you the way.

When Erik finished his song he was breathing heavily. He always got far too excited whenever he played that particular piece. He glanced over his shoulder with a sly grin at the swan bed, wondering if she had awakened. No movement.

Erik frowned, disappointed. He jumped up and glided across the rocks over to her, pushing the curtain aside. Her position had changed, but eyes still closed. Even breaths. He tapped his foot with frustration before turning away.

"You play beautifully."

Erik's ears burned. How did she know he was there? How did he not know she was awake?

Ignoring her words, he marched off.

* * *

><p>"DOUG!" Aimee screamed, slamming her fist against the door, "DOUG! OPEN UP!"<p>

Aimee's screams were met with a kind old woman's face. The woman smiled at her through the waves of wrinkles pouring off of her face, "Oh hello dear! What can I help you with?"

"Hello, Mrs. Porter. Is Doug in?" Aimee said quickly, searching the room behind the woman.

"No, no! We do not wish to buy Girl Scout cookies little girl!" the woman said with the same smile, reaching up and patting Aimee on the head. She was about a head taller than Doug's grandmother, who stood only about 4'11''.

Aimee sigh impatiently at the old delirious woman, "No, Mrs. Porter. I'm Aimee remember?"

"Aimee!" came a call from inside. Doug appeared behind his grandmother a few moments later, "Hey Aimee, I thought you and Abigail were taking a girls day or something?"

"Uh, yeah. That's why I'm here." Aimee said nervously, following Doug inside as he led his grandmother through the living room and into her bedroom upstairs. Coming back down to Aimee, he offered her a seat on the couch and sat next to her.

"So what's up?" Doug asked casually, flipping on the TV.

Aimee began to tear up. How was she to tell him? Doug glanced over at her, noticing she was upset, "Aimee, what's wrong?"

Aimee broke down, "I-it's Abigail…" she cried

"What happened to Abigail?" Doug asked, sitting up straighter, leaning in.

"S-She's… she's gone!" Aimee cried out, dropping her head into her hands and beginning to cry.

"She ran away?"

"N-no! S-she… We… We were a-at the O-opera H-house…"

"Why were you there? I thought it was under construction!"

"I-I made her come with me… I wanted to s-see it before my audition…"

Doug stared at her in disbelief, "How is she gone? She was with you!"

"I know!" Aimee yelled, looking up at him through puffy eyes, "We were inside, and we went on the stage… And she began to play on a piano she found, and I began to sing… and… Oh god, I can't believe myself!" Aimee cried, clutching onto her hair.

"What happened?" Doug shouted, grabbing her shoulders.

Aimee stared wide eyed at him before quickly spilling her guts, "W-we were there, on the stage, and s-she was playing… and I was singing…"

"I KNOW THAT PART!" Doug yelled, shaking her violently. Aimee cried out, but continued.

"W-when I was s-s-singing, I s-saw someone coming towards us… And I-I-I didn't know what to do, and I t-tried to warn her… B-but… Oh god, I ran away, Doug! I left Abigail and someone took her and I left her and she's all alone! She's _gone_!"

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><p><strong>DUN DUN ...<strong>

**What will Doug do? Will the Phantom ever grow to like Abigail? What will Abigail do next? All of this and more, next chapter! Teehee. **

**I give out virtual cookies to all of the people who comment! So if you want one, press that review button down there!**

_**I have up to chapter 5 written... I CANT WAIT TO SHARE IT WITH YOU! AHHHHHHHHH! Just review more, and I'll make sure to get these chapters out! I wrote them so I wouldn't slack off THAT much during the next week (midterms and such). **_


	4. Desperate for a Light

**Guys, I am really disappointed in the lack of reviews this is getting. A lot of people are adding this story to favorites or story alert, and I am getting no reviews from them (I know who you are, I get an email whenever someone does that). It means the WORLD to me when someone takes _two_ extra seconds out of their day to contribute their thoughts/ideas/opinions to the chapters.**

**I really couldn't care less if it was even an, "zomg this iz so gewd" or even a "This fucking sucks balls man"**

**Thank you. ENJOY!**

**TheLoverofNight: Erik just doesn't understand, and hes not supposed to yet! He's been isolated from the world for a bajillion years and suddenly finds himself rooming with a blind girl. Its shocking to him! :P And thank you, midterms/finals are never a good thing for me xD**

**RedDeathLvr: An impatient sonofabitch! (at least for now!) :P**

**amysmiles: Hahaha! Your comment made me laugh. Sugar rushes are amazing o.o**

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><p><em>To feel insecure is to feel fear. People are used to the life that they have lived for their entire life. To contemplate the idea of suddenly changing this is a scary thing; what will be different? Will this be permanent? Do things need to change? <em>

_However, the questions that most people do not ask themselves are the most important ones: Do I want this for someone else, or do I want it for me? Will I be better off, or will someone else? _

_However, those questions pose more questions. Do we change for ourselves, or do we change for others? Should we change ourselves FOR others? Is it worth it? _

_All of these insecurities cause stress and fear. We need an escape, some sort of outlet for them. Some chose positive outlets, others negative. Creation and destruction. We decide on how to react. Often times, these reactions will decide the outcome of the change that we have brought upon ourselves, or what has been brought upon us. Life is not about the things that happen to us, they are about how we decide to react to them. _

_We, after all, decide our own fate, do we not?_

Whatever Erik had told himself yesterday that made him go out shopping the following day was a complete and utter mistake. He had not done anything right yet.

His first mistake today had been his choice of attire. Rather than going out in his normal suit and cape, he decided he should probably dress more like a person of this day and age due to the prolonged period he would be outside. Admittedly, he thought he looked quite dashing. This brought far more attention than he desired.

He wore simple black pants with a pair of fancy black shoes. On top, he put on a nice white shirt, a stylish light black jacket and a blue-grey scarf. On his head, rather than his mask (it would draw to much attention) he had a black hat tilted over to hide his face as well as large darkened out sunglasses. The affect made his… unpleasant side… almost completely hidden. One would need to look extremely closely to see anything off.

However, when first putting this outfit together in the early morning, he did not expect half of Paris's female population to be stalking him around corners and giggling as they followed him through stores.

Erik was seething.

He could not stand it. Why must they be so annoying? He was simply trying to decide on white or black plastic bowls. The fact that the girl could not see was ignored. He did not want bright pink bowls around his home.

Two ladies in their mid twenties came dangerously close to him as they pretended to also be examining the various bowls around them. Erik could not help but notice the two showing themselves off to him in a less than obvious manner. His ears burned as they bent over dramatically to look at the plates on the lower shelves.

He sped away, a couple black bowls tossed his shopping cart.

Erik shuddered as he left the store and made his way back to the Opera House. He deposited the bags into the small boat, took out his list, and crossed some things off.

_Girl's Shopping List_

_New Clothes_

_New pair of shoes_

_Different food_

_Plates, bowls, forks, spoons, knives, cups_

_Water/Other drinking things_

_Bathing materials (?)_

_Extra towel(s)_

_Hair things (?)_

_Things for blind people_

Leaving the groceries behind, he went off into the streets to search for a different shop. Erik eventually found himself in a store that seemed to sell various washing materials. Grabbing a cart, he set off on his way.

What should he get her? He turned into the hair-care aisle and froze. An unending wall of different bottles and sprays met his eyes.

Who on earth could use all of this? There were too many shapes and sizes and colors to even begin to comprehend their use. He cautiously picked one up. After carefully examining the bottle, he discovered a word he could comprehend: Shampoo.

Success. He grabbed the other bottle that looks similar to it that was labeled 'conditioner' in the same spot.

"Looking for something in particular?" came a cheery voice from behind him.

Erik jumped up, almost dropping the two bottles. He quickly made sure his hat was in the right spot, coughed and replied, "Uh, no, no. I'm fine."

"Buying something for your grandmother?" the lady responded with a smile. She wore a simple black skirt with a dressy red shirt on top. Her black heels made an annoying tapping sound when they hit the floor as she walked near him.

"No. My… friend." He replied cautiously.

"Really? Is she balding?" she asked, surprised

Erik looked at her, shocked, "No! Why would you ask that?" he growled in response.

"Well," she said with a smile, "You're buying shampoo that's for people who are balding. It slows the process."

Erik frowned, defeated. How was he supposed to pick out the proper thing in this sea of random shit?

The lady frowned, tucked a piece of her long, straight blonde hair behind her ear, and said, "Here, let me help you! What's your friend's hair type?"

Erik stared at her.

She stared back. After a moment she elaborated, "Is it straight, wavy, or curly?"

Erik blinked. There was a difference between wavy and curly? How was he supposed to pick which one? He panicked. He did not want the girl to go bald and have to use the shampoo he was currently holding. Maybe he should keep it just in case.

"Uhm, uh, curly." He finally blurted out.

"Excellent!" the woman responded, walking in the completely opposite direction that Erik was walking, "Follow me!"

Ten minutes, fifty questions, and fifty lousy responses later, Erik found his cart full of all of the "essentials" the lady called them. Shampoo, conditioner, gel, brushes, deodorant, spray, clips, hair ties, body lotion, soap, toothbrushes and toothpaste, floss, anything he could have possibly imagined was laying in his shopping cart. The woman marched him up to the register and added it up.

"That's a seventy six dollars!" she said with a cheer. As Erik pulled out his wallet, he felt her watching him, "So, girlfriend just moved in, eh?" Erik stiffened.

"She is _not_ my girlfriend." He said with a huff. How dare she try to make such assumptions! His anger was rising rapidly.

The girl winked at him, only furthering his foul mood, "Complicated, eh?" she laughed, taking the money he handed her. She fiddled with the register as she began to give him wisdom he definitely did not want to hear, "Well if you're all the way out here, you must care about her a little bit, if not more than a little bit, if you know what I mean!" she winked again. He glared.

"Just take it slow! You don't need to rush into things. I'm sure she's one of a kind!" she said with a grin as she handed Erik the change. He snatched the money, shoved it into his wallet and stormed off.

People had gotten so annoying since he had last been out. Trying to tell HIM what to do? Who did she think she was! And what useless words; they meant nothing to him, for the girl meant nothing. He was doing this so she would not die. Erik was positive that these "Seductive Apple" scented perfumes were absolutely necessary to a woman's health, otherwise he would not have bought them.

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><p>Erik finally made his way to the final stop of the day. It was nearing four in the afternoon and he wanted to make sure that the girl (he made a mental note to ask her of her name; continuously saying 'girl' felt wrong) had not drowned by now.<p>

He was nervous. How many different options of clothes could there be? He was sure that there could not be as many as the shampoos. He did not know what he would do if he had to decide on that many things at once.

Erik nearly walked right back out when he entered the store.

As far as his eye could see there were thousands of woman's clothes. The last time he had been to a store it was specifically for men and was about a fourth of the size as this monster.

Erik wanted to throw up. Where was he to begin? Shirts? Shoes? Pants? He froze. He wouldn't need to buy her… _underwear_, would he?

He realized the gravity of the situation. The last thing he wanted was to know of every single last piece of clothing that this girl was going to be wearing in his home for the rest of her life. He needed assistance, immediately.

Erik rushed up to a bored looking sales lady. She looked early thirties with pin straight black hair and bangs that almost covered her eyes. She was extremely thin, wearing black pants and a white shirt on top.

"Hello? Hi, yes. Would you mind if you helped me for a bit?" he begged.

The woman looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

Erik looked around, visibly out of his comfort zone. The lady almost laughed at him. He glared at her. The look was lost through the glasses.

"Yes. Yes, well, you see, my friend has recently moved into my house and finds herself completely out of all of her clothes. As in _everything_. I know nothing of this sort of thing, and she finds herself… unable… to leave the house at this present moment. Would you mind assisting me in finding her some clothes?"

The girl grinned, showing off her shiny white teeth, "Girlfriend moved in?" she asked excited, motioning with a finger for him to follow her.

He slapped a hand against his forehead before finally giving in, thinking it easier to just go along, "YES, _yes_, my girlfriend! I just need clothes!" he cried.

The lady laughed as she took a shopping cart, "Did you fuck her before she told you she had nothing else to put on or something?"

Erik did not know what to make of this, and simply sputtered. Why do people these days think like this? What happened through the years? Did he fuck her? _What?_

"You don't need to answer that!" the lady said, winking at him, "Now is your girl thin, fat, tall short, ugly, cute? Hair color? Eye color? Preferred clothing styles? Is she a heel kind of person or a sneaker kind of person?"

Erik wanted to kill something.

* * *

><p>Abigail was bored.<p>

When she woke up, the Phantom was gone. At first she thought he was simply hiding from her, but after her fake falling and passing out, she concluded he was nowhere in the immediate area.

This brought on many ideas.

Should she escape now?

That idea was quickly shot down. She would drown before she figured some sort of way out of here. So she decided to search around for awhile. Within a few hours, she had the place pretty much mapped out in her head.

Abigail couldn't help but feel homesick, however. She missed her small apartment, her boring books, her own _bed_. She wanted to play on her piano again and listen to the notes echo off of her empty walls.

The thought of her piano ignited a deep thirst for music inside of her. She knew exactly where the organ was; how long it was, how tall. How much it would hurt if she stubbed her toe against it (her right big toe throbbed at the thought). Abigail desperately wanted to play it, but what if the Phantom returned while she was touching it? What would he do? If he had hit her when she simply spoke out, she could not imagine his punishment for touching the thing that has probably been keeping him sane down here. Or as close to sane as possible.

Abigail quickly settled herself down on a rock near the water. She kept her mind busy by throwing small pebbles into the water, listening to them hit the water farther and farther away. However, the splashes slowly began to sound more and more like notes, and her mind returned to music.

_Fuck it. _

Abigail tossed all reason to the wind, jumped up, and quickly made her way over to the organ. She paused as she carefully settled down onto the large, comfortable seat. After scooting the seat closer to the organ, she sat there for a moment, wondering what on earth to play. She rested her aching fingers, desperate for a song, on the keys and thought.

Abigail was trapped inside the underground lair of the Phantom of the Opera with no escape, nobody looking for her, and not a slight hint of kindness from the crazed man. Tears formed in her eyes. Nobody was looking for her…

She shoved herself away from the organ, collapsing on the ground as she let out a sob. Aimee was not looking for her… _Doug_ did not care…

A horrid emotion rose up in her throat at the thought of Doug. Years of friendship and caring between them, and he did not even attempt to come to her in her time of need… She had considered him her best friend; how could she survive without him being there for her, not reading music to her? Her heart ached for him, for him to hold her as she cried. She held herself.

Abigail rapidly blinked her tears away. She knew what she would play.

Settling back on the organ, she ignored her tears as she began _Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again _from the movie.

The sad tune helped her relax. She softly hummed the melody under her breath to herself as she played the notes, not once breaking the rhythm, her knowledgeable hands gliding across the organ perfectly.

Her hums broke out into soft whispers after the first few lines as she drew herself into her own music, escaping the world around her.

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

_Wishing you were somehow near_

_Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed_

_Somehow you would be here_

Another tear fell, tickling her cheek as it slowly swam down her face, mocking her realization that she _did_ want Doug there with her.

_Wishing I could hear your voice again_

_Knowing that I never would_

_Dreaming of you won't help me to do_

_All that you dreamed I could_

She continued playing. Doug had always believed in her. He convinced her she was going to go somewhere someday, that once he could afford it, he was going to get her noticed by someone. She had been so thankful for his open promises at the time. She loved him for it. Her voice began to sound odd.

_Passing bells and sculpted angels_

_Cold and monumental seem,__** for you the wrong companions**_

_You were warm and gentle_

He was warm and gentle. She kept her hands moving, not letting her shaking shoulders corrupt the song. She only managed to choke out a couple sentences going on, but she still heard the song through the music.

_To many years fighting back tears_

**Why can't the past just die?**

_**Wishing you were somehow here again**_

_Knowing we must say, "Goodbye"_

**Try to forgive, teach me to live**

_Give me the strength to try_

**No more memories**, _no more silent tears_

_**No more gazing across the wasted years**_

_Help me say, "Goodbye"_

**Help me say, "Goodbye"**

Abigail's hands gently swept across the keys, drawing out the last notes with a burdening sadness. Fear overcame her as the notes died, feeling as if Doug was leaving her with them.

"You never told me your name."

Abigail screamed, covering her head with her arms and jumping forward onto the organ; the large object made a scream of its own as she threw herself down upon it.

She felt a gloved hand wrap around her shoulder and wheel her around to face the man.

"_Why_ are you so _jumpy_?" the Phantom yelled.

"Why do you sneak up on me?" she yelled back, shoving his hand off of her shoulder.

The hand lashed out, grabbing her by the jaw and forcing her back onto the organ. It let out a yell of protest as it's keys were yet again smashed down. Abigail grabbed onto the hand holding her down, gasping as the air was knocked out of her.

"_Do **not** yell at me_!" The Phantom yelled in her face. He did not let go of her despite her struggles and kicking. She missed him half the time.

Abigail felt him relax his grip slightly. She stopped kicking, but held onto his wrist, still afraid. Her cheek flinched as she felt him brush away dried tears. She sniffed.

"Abigail." She said, barely an audible whisper.

A couple moments past between them before he finally released her.

"I bought you some things." He called as Abigail heard him walk away.

She rubbed her jaw.

"I'm not entirely familiar with… Female clothing…"

Abigail whimpered.

"So I had someone else do it for me."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Aimee had bought her clothes for her. Before she had been trapped down here, that is.

"Thank you." She said, "You wouldn't mind telling me what they look like would you?"

"They're girly."

Abigail frowned, not amused, "No. I mean, so I know what to wear with what."

She heard a long, drawn out sigh from where he was standing, near the water she assumed. Abigail was slowly piecing this place together. She now knew that whenever he came to and from this place, he used some sort of transportation across the water.

"There is quite a lot here."

"Well, what else did you buy?" she asked curiously, making her way over to him. Abigail found it odd how curious she was. She did not like the idea of setting up a life down here. Why would she want to make it seem even more permanent with new things? New stuff meant a new life in her mind.

But her girly side couldn't help but get excited at the idea of freshly bought clothes.

"Hygiene products. Utensils. Things of that sort." He said nonchalantly. Abigail felt relieved. If she was going to stay here, even for a little bit, she needed things to eat on. And some deodorant.

"Why didn't you have them before?" she asked, curious as she listened to him line up things on the table.

"I had no need of them." He stated without emotion.

"You didn't eat?"

"No, I simply did not need them when I ate."

"What do you eat?"

"_Why_ do you have so many questions?" he hissed. She heard him stop when he became annoyed.

"Sorry." She muttered, inching toward where she believed the other bags were.

"Why are you—"

Abigail slipped on the unstable rocks and fell into the freezing water.

Panic and fear swarmed her mind as she thrashed about, legs kicking wildly as she breathed in the lake water. Her lungs burned. She seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into the dark abyss; she had no idea where to go, which direction was up or down. She felt as though she were going to die; tears gushed out of her eyes and disappeared into the darkness. She had wanted to do so much more with her life. She wanted to go back home and be safe in her own bed where there was no Phantom, no new clothes, nothing but herself and her piano.

Maybe dying wouldn't be that bad. If it was away from here, it must be good. She felt awkward and hopeless here. Maybe she intentionally pushed herself into the water.

She thanked herself.

Abigail imagined that wherever she would go, she would be safe. It would be bright; she wouldn't be consumed in this constant night, this intense darkness surrounding her. She might be able to see notes for the very first time. She would read something with her eyes, not her hands.

She could look at herself, maybe; see what others saw when they looked at her. Abigail wondered if she was pretty. She hoped so; she couldn't remember if she looked pretty when she was younger. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember seeing that much at all.

She distantly remembered what fire looked like. A bright white light came to mind as well.

Strong arms. Solid chest. Rushing water. Burst of air.

Abigail hoped the Phantom would just let her die. She longed for death now; she could almost feel its embrace. The cold was stripped from her; she felt her chest thudding.

Abigail was happy, so happy she wanted to sing out in joy. She felt her mouth open, ready for a song. She waited. Nothing came from her lips.

_Swooooossshhhh_

More thuds.

_Swooooossshhhh_

Thuds.

Abigail felt funny. Her head began to spin. She wanted to be sick.

She turned her head to the side, coughed up a gallon of water, and passed out.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Abigail, almost drowning in the water ): <strong>

**So many emotions going around... I enjoy writing the small snippets at the top of each chapter (they relate to the chapter if you haven't caught on). I think they add more of a mature tone to the story :P**

**Make sure to REVIEW! It helps me out a lot! I am sad when people favorite/alert and don't leave a review ;_;**


	5. Chasing Dawn

**Thank you for reviews... For those of you who haven't -stares down- I know who you are. And guess what? You're not getting cookies. Yeah. What now?**

**Midterms still going on... Studying sucks ass... Heres another chapter that I made in advance just because I'm nice :)**

**PhantomFan01: I felt so evil when I wrote the ending, hehe!**

**cynthiaphklepinger: Thank you :)**

**amysmiles: Ahaha, indeed, he is ;) Can't wait to release the next chapter!**

**TheLoverofNight: Yes... It would have been a "special" moment for Erik if he tried xD**

**ReadDeathLvr: I know! He's such an awkward dude :P And he'll warm up eventually... ;)**

**ShayShayCoolAy: Thank you! I appreciate your review :D :D**

**Xxnikkigirl123xX: As long as people keep reading and reviewing, I don't plan on stopping short with this story! Keep reviewing! :)**

* * *

><p><strong><span>IMPORTANT NOTE<span>: I decided to start putting up "additional information" on my profile, under the "I See You" section... If you wish, check it out. It's just where I'll be adding random thoughts/additional things like where I got my ideas from or whatever. If enough people ask for more of that, I'll keep it updated, if not, it'll be for my personal enjoyment and not be a regular thing ^_^**

_Everyone does what they believe is right. More people will agree with what is right than others. This is okay; everyone has different opinions. Nobody seems to remember this. Even though someone's actions may seem completely and utterly absurd, in their mind, they are probably doing the most obvious thing in the world. It's okay. Everyone thinks their own thoughts. _

_From this sense of right and wrong, we take action. These actions can simply mean by taking the action of inaction. This may be what seems right at the moment; to simply do nothing. To let it be, give it time to grow, to mature. Maybe the problem that you were contemplating will solve itself. Maybe you should not intervene. One can only learn by figuring things out by themselves._

_Others, however, decide that the action that must be taken is action itself. They feel the desire to help or__ support. Desperately, they try to fix something that often times does need to be fixed, and they probably should have just let it be. However, that is another opinion. It is probably, in their mind, the best course of action to take. It is whats right. Others will without a doubt think it is wrong._

_How are we to all agree on one conclusion? The majority will always win. However, we must think of the minorities' point of view as well. From their stance, nothing wrong has been done, even if it was the murder of a small kitten. Perhaps the kitten actually _did_ threaten to murder the child's baby doll. The majority will never know, and will be consumed in their snobbish idea that they are correct, and those who oppose them are incorrect._

_Right and wrong; the worst thought processes ever to have taken root in the human race._

"Doug, how much longer do you think we are going to be out here?" she asked, shivering.

"As long as it takes." Doug growled, looking through his binoculars.

The two of them had been sitting on the rooftop of the building across from the Opera House for about five hours now. It was nearing six at night, and Aimee was starving.

"Doug, how do you know he's going to come out?"

"He will."

"But how?"

"Because if some creep is holding Abigail," he hissed, snapping his attention to Aimee, "He's going to eventually need to get SOMETHING for her!"

He returned to his binoculars, searching the streets and building surrounding the Opera House. On occasion he would glance about the actual building.

Aimee shivered again. She needed a better jacket. And gloves.

"Doug, do you think he's in the Opera House?"

"No. Why would someone keep her where you saw them take her?"

"I don't know… Maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Nothing."

Silence.

"…"

"…"

"Doug?"

"What?"

"What if the Phantom is real?"

Doug laughed.

"Aimee, if the Phantom was real, he would be dead."

"But what if he's alive?"

"Then he must be one old little fucker." Doug laughed.

Aimee frowned. She was being serious. Doug noticed he had gotten her upset and sighed.

"Listen, Aimee. I really don't think that the Phantom exists. I mean, he's a fictional character invented by some dude and wrote a book on him, and then some dude wrote a play, and then some other dude made a movie that you were obsessed with."

"I was not obsessed!" she yelled.

"You were obsessed."

Aimee let out a small _huff. _She could see her breath rising up and away from her until it disappeared into the growing night.

"What if he just like, didn't age this entire time?" Aimee asked.

"How could that happen?"

"I don't know. Maybe he has some kind of curse or something."

"You were never one to believe in fantasy stories, Aimee."

"Oh you know what I mean! Maybe he has a disease."

"What kind of disease stops aging?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe he has some really great anti-aging cream. You should ask him about that."

"Shut up, Doug!"

Doug snickered.

Silence.

"How old do you think he is?" Aimee asked.

"How would I know? He's not even real!"

"Do you think he stopped aging once Christine left him?"

"Aimee, stop talking like some stupid fan girl!"

"I'm having a logical debate!"

"No, you're not, because I'm not debating anymore."

More silence.

"Well," Doug said, pocketing the binoculars, "I don't think he's coming back out today. Let's-"

"DOUG!" Aimee cried, forcing his head down.

"What?" he yelled.

"_Shhhhh_! What's that?" Aimee said, pointing to the empty streets.

They were not empty anymore. A tall man dressed in almost all black was gliding gracefully across the street. Doug whipped out the binoculars and zoomed in on his face. He couldn't see much past the hat and glasses.

"Aimee, it's just some dude."

"A dude who went on a major shopping spree." Aimee said suspiciously.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look at the bags, Doug! No guy walks around with that many clothing bags!"

Doug frowned. It was true; he hadn't given it much thought.

"What if he's just gay?"

"He is not! I can tell!"

"How can you tell? I mean, look at his hat."

"Plenty of straight men wear those hats!"

"I've never seen one."

"That's because you never get outside except when you go to see Abigail!"

Doug glared at her. Aimee apologized.

"Look," Doug pointed out, "He's not even going through the gates. He's just going home."

The two of them watched the man turn a corner, a street away from the Opera House. Aimee sighed.

"Whatever. We can eat, and then we can come back. But I need my gloves."

"Yeah. You're retarded."

* * *

><p>Erik froze, stopping mid sentence. There was a splash, and Abigail was gone.<p>

Despair shot up his spine as he threw off his jacket and scarf; distress radiated off of his skin as he scrambled to rip off his shoes.

_Why_ was she so idiotic? What did she _possibly_ need to go to the water for? Was she _really_ this incompetent as to not know where the water is by now?

He knew that this day was going to come eventually; he never realized it was going to be this soon.

Erik finally managed to tear off his other shoe, ripped off his shirt to expose his muscular chest, and dove head first into the water after his little pianist. He forced his eyes open. Erik could hardly see through the murky water. Could she swim? He didn't know. Movement caught his eyes; he dashed towards it as fast as he could. Erik saw Abigail thrashing around a couple feet in front of him and then slowly stop.

He saw red.

Erik roared, the sound echoing through the water like an aquatic beast. He dove at Abigail, crushed her against his chest, and flew to the surface. An explosion of water met them in the air. He pulled her onto the ground and laid her down.

Now what? His mind was still in anger mode; he forgot what he was supposed to do next. Her clothes were soaking wet and she was visibly shivering. His wild mind put the two together and ripped off Abigail's soaking shirt and covered her with his abandoned cloak.

She wasn't breathing. He opened her mouth and pounded on her chest. One, two, three, one, two three. He grabbed her face, pinched her nose, and froze.

He did not want to have to _kiss_ her. What if she woke up when his mouth was on hers?

Abigail still wasn't breathing.

Erik forced his face upon hers and breathed quickly. He repeated the process twice. As he was about to try to breathe life into her again, Abigail suddenly coughed up a large amount of water and promptly passed out.

Erik stared at her. He checked her pulse and breathing. She seemed fine. He relaxed, and looked down at the mess he had made.

Abigail's shirt lay soaking wet halfway across the room from where he had tossed it. His own clothes lay scattered about, and several books and a chair had been knocked out of place in his rush. Erik shook his head. It was probably the fastest thing he had done for someone else before. He had saved her life. Nobody had done that for him, ever. Why did he do it for a blind girl? He could have simply let her drown and all of his problems would have been solved. He could have easily forgotten about this little mess and gone on with his sad, pathetic life.

But he had to be honest with himself as he looked back down at Abigail. She had brought some kind of life back into him, even if it was out of anger. But it wasn't the same kind of anger that he had before. It was more… playful? No, he thought to himself. It was not playful at all. He had hit her in his anger. Maybe it wasn't anger.

Perhaps he just likes someone to talk to. He almost smiled to himself.

Almost.

He slowly sat up and picked up the mess around him. After considering the ugly sweater, he tossed the shirt into the boat to be disposed of. She would no longer need turned back to Abigail. He grabbed his cloak, prepared to place it on the table when he suddenly stopped, staring at her.

Half of her was almost naked in front of him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her smooth looking skin for a moment. Erik had not thought of it until now how long it had been seen he had seen someone, touched someone…

Erik grew disgusted with himself. How could he think such thoughts of someone who was unconscious on the ground? He placed the cloak on the table, unsure of how to approach the task ahead of him. Erik knew he should put her back on the swan bed, but definitely did not want to touch her skin now that he was in a clearer mental state.

He looked over to the boat. All of the clothing bags were still inside. He darted over, took out the first shirt that he found (he distantly remembered the saleswoman saying it was a camisole, or a 'cami'. It was white.), and made his way back over to her. She was still sort of wet. Erik mentally slapped himself.

Why must he always be caught in these situations with this girl?

He grumbled, grabbed the newly bought white towl and a pair of black sweatpants out of the boat, and nervously walked over to her.

He considered just waiting until she woke up and letting her put on her own shirt and pants.

But what would she think he had done if she woke up without a shirt on? His eyes took another peak. Her bra was bright red with black polka dots. Erika cursed to himself and stared at the ground.

He finally decided on simply carrying her over to the swan bed, towel wrapped around her. He laid the clothes near her feet, just touching her so she could find them, and quickly fled the area.

He was a bumbling idiot.

* * *

><p>Abigail's throat hurt. She felt sick and woozy. Her head was on fire.<p>

_She wasn't wearing a shirt._

"PHANTOM!" she screamed her voice cracking slightly. Abigail sat up and let the towel fall.

"_What_ do you _want_?" came a yell from the organ.

"WHY am I not wearing a _shirt_?" Abigail screamed back, outraged. She suddenly felt insecure and violated.

"You fell into the water, and I figured I'd let you not die of pneumonia after I went through all of the trouble of not letting you _drown_."

Abigail felt her face burning. What had happened? She distantly remembered falling into the water, but not much else. She heard the Phantom's footsteps draw near. Abigail brought the towel up to her chin, hiding herself.

"I set a shirt and new pants on your bed. The rest of your clothes are waiting next to the wardrobe… I believe you wanted me to tell you what they were?"

"Yeah." Abigail mumbled, her head bowed.

She heard the Phantom cough awkwardly.

"Well, I will leave you to change, then. When you are ready, simply tell me."

He walked away. Abigail relaxed, and quickly found the new clothes. After changing she deposited the wet clothes off to the side.

She stepped outside of the curtain, listening for some hint that the Phantom was around. She heard a shuffle near the table. Making her way over to it, she reached a hand out, and surprisingly touched a bare back.

She felt the Phantom jump in surprised.

"_You_ are not wearing a shirt." She stated simply.

"Yes, I know." The Phantom replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?"

"I took it off to rescue you, and I do not sleep with a shirt on."

"You were sleeping?"

"No. I will be once we are done with this... sorting of clothes."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"Somewhere on the ground."

"Why don't you use the bed?"

"You are using it."

"But I'm not at the moment. I'll busy myself."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I do not wish to use the bed that you are." He hissed.

Abigail felt hurt, but brushed it off.

"Well, I'm ready." she replied, "For sorting."

It took them around an hour, mostly because of Abigail. She felt bad, but the Phantom was not the best at describing the new clothes. It took her awhile to put them where they should go for her to find them later. The Phantom also gave Abigail her shampoo and such.

"Where do I like, take a shower?"

"In the bathroom?" the Phantom replied, shocked at such a question.

"Where is that?"

"_Where_ have you been going to the bathroom all this time?"

Nobody said anything.

She felt him firmly grab her shoulder after a moment and lead her to the door she could not open the first time that she had looked around. She heard him open the door, and the two walked inside. She placed her things all around, occasionally running into the Phantom's own products.

"How did you get a bathroom down here?" Abigail commented, noticed how nice it was. It even had tiled floors.

"I had a renovator of course."

"How did you get him to not talk about you?" she asked, touching the shower curtain. The entire bathroom seemed off from the rocky nature of the Phantom's lair. It was as if this was the only modern thing that he had.

"I killed him."

Abigail stopped fooling around with the shower curtain, "What?"

"What?" The Phantom asked, confused.

"You killed a man?"

"I have killed many men."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" he growled, growing annoyed.

"I don't know. I just didn't think about it."

"You shouldn't."

Abigail gulped. The Phantom seemed much more dangerous now, and she grew nervous. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to do.

"Well, uh, didn't you want to sleep or something?" she asked quickly, wishing he would go away.

The Phantom did not respond for a moment. He slowly replied, "Yes… Should you need me, wake me."

Abigail heard him walk away.

"Oh. And do not go near the water." He called.

She heard a slight tease in his tone.

* * *

><p>"I swear to god, Doug, I think that was the man again!"<p>

"Aimee, for the love of God, it wasn't him!"

Aimee was freaking out. Just as they had gotten down to the street level, she had sworn she saw the same man turning back onto the road where the Opera House was. Her ears could have sworn she heard a gate opening and closing, and she knew that it was the gates to the Opera House.

"Please, Doug, can we just peak inside? Please?"

"No! It's under renovation for fucks sake Aimee, you and Abigail weren't even supposed to be in there! The man probably saw two stupid young women go inside the Opera House and went, 'Oh! Look! Easy target number one and number two!'"

"Shut up!" Aimee cried, growing more and more desperate. She blamed herself more every hour for Abigail, and she knew Doug blamed her too. He had grown more anxious as well, even if he didn't admit it.

The two of them couldn't help but wonder what was happening to Abigail. None of them wanted to admit their worst fear; that she had been brutally murdered and was lying in a ditch somewhere.

Doug sighed, "Well, we can't report her to the police until tomorrow I think. So we're just going to have to keep looking out to make sure he doesn't come back around looking for someone else."

Aimee nodded in agreement. In the back of her mind she knew she should be practicing for her audition that was rapidly approaching, but she quickly shook the thought from her mind. For right now, Abigail was more important; even if it meant she and Doug had to play cop for awhile.

The next morning they returned to the rooftop. They waited for three hours, got breakfast, and went back up. Aimee and Doug talked a lot. They had never had so much time to share each other's thoughts before; it had always revolved around Abigail, when she needed a ride, who was going to visit her that night, and so on.

But now, in mutual worry, they realized that they had more in common than they thought. The two of them bonded and became much better friends. They laughed and worried together on the rooftops of Paris.

By noon, they both agreed it was time to announce Abigail missing. Doug jumped into Aimee's car and the two of them drove off to the local police station.

"God, I didn't even know where the police station was until now." Aimee breathed, looking around the ominous waiting area. Suspicion loomed in the air.

"Meh, I've been here a few times."

Aimee laughed at him. She knew he had a less than angelic childhood. Doug shrugged, hiding a small grin.

"Ah, yes, is there a Mr. Porter here?" a young secretary called from the desk.

Aimee and Doug jumped up.

"Yes, the chief will see you now. First door on your left." She said, pointing to the correct door. They nodded in thanks and went through.

The chief's office was medium sized. It had enough room to fit the desk, two chairs, and a couple of filing cabinets comfortably inside. The man sitting at the desk barely raised an eye at the two of them before pointing to the two seats in front of him.

Aimee and Doug looked at each other before sitting down, facing the African American man and waited patiently for him to finish his paperwork.

"And, done." He said calmly, dotting the end of his sentence. He closed the file and put it in an ever growing pile to his right, "Now, what can I help you with?" he asked, grabbing a blank file and looking at them expectantly.

Aimee sputtered. Doug took this as his cue.

"Our friend, Abigail, went missing around this time yesterday." Doug explained as the chief started a report, "She and my friend here, Aimee, were around the Opera House when Aimee saw someone grab her."

The chief nodded as he wrote quickly, "And did you happen to get a look at the man?" he asked, looking up at Aimee.

Aimee shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. The chief scribbled something down and shut the report.

"Well, I'm afraid this is not much to go on. I'll have a guard stationed around the Opera House, but I'm afraid there is not much more to do but wait and see. If we see no activity by tomorrow, or you don't get a ransom call, we need to expand the perimeter and probably do a search of some nearby buildings."

Doug nodded. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"You two should probably put up wanted posters to see if anyone calls in having seen her. Is there anything that I should know about this Abigail?"

"S-she's blind." Aimee cried softly.

The chief frowned, but nodded. He added it to the report, as well as a physical description that he asked from them.

"We'll do the best we can." The chief said as he saw them out.

"Thanks." They said together.

The two silently made their way back to the car. Doug drove Aimee home, noticing she was in no mood to drive. He didn't mind walking home.

It took him thirty agonizing minutes to get home. All he could think about was Abigail. She was alone and afraid, and he was hopeless to protect her. He wanted to scream.

Shutting the door behind him, Doug slowly took off his coat and put it away. He dragged his feet into the kitchen only to find a plate of his grandmother's cookies on the table. He trudged over, sat down, and took one.

He stared at it for a long time. Doug saw Abigail's face in the small chocolate chips.

If he could have Abigail back, Doug knew he would give up all of the cookies in the world.

He ripped a chunk off only to find himself not hungry.

He threw the cookies in the garbage.

Doug began to cry, knowing Abigail would have murdered him to see such an act.

He couldn't do anything right.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Doug ): <strong>

**Poor Erik xD**

**Every time**** I write about those goddamn cookies, I want chocolate chip cookies... like, right out of the oven when all of the chocolate chips are still gooey and waaarmmm... OMG. I'M SO HUNGRY NOW.**

**REVIEW. I KNOW YOU WANT TO. PRESS THAT BUTTON... YEAH. PRESS IT. o.O.**


	6. Searching, Blindly

**Midterms are DONE! WHOOOOO! Bad part; I no longer will be able to leave before noon everyday ): Oh well. More time to write now :P**

**amysmiles: Yes, Erik does have a belly button, lmao. And maybe reading on a couch would be safer xD**

**ShayShayCoolAy: Awkward Erik indeed :P Thank you!**

**13sapphire13: Thank you so much haha! **

**TheIdesofMarch: Yeah, when I first looked through all the POTO stories, I noticed a lot of them were like, a hundred words a chapter and all like, "OMG ITS THE PHANTOM." -haves sex next chapter-. The whole Erik being alive thing is still something I am thinking about in my head... So its not set it stone quite yet! Suggestions are always welcome :) And yes, they're speaking French; I just cant speak French worth a damn o.O**

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><p><em>Take a risk once in awhile, it's good for you. Without risks, life is a meaningless pit of rules and order. If nobody took a risk once in awhile, there is reason to believe that we would have gone nowhere as a race.<em>

_Should man have never experimented, would we have anything? Half of the things that we have and use everyday are products of accidental experimentation or simple fixes with pure intentions. Without these people, going above and beyond to solve a problem or to make their life easier, we easily could never have progressed past the ice age (mentally). _

_Without risking failure, we simply cannot reap the benefits of success. _

Abigail desperately wanted to play the organ. However, the knowledge that the Phantom was laying around somewhere on the ground, _sleeping_, made her quite hesitant. She didn't want to wake him; Abigail didn't know how often he slept.

Or ate, for that matter.

Abigail wondered how he survived down here. She made a mental note to ask him when he decided to appear to her again. For now, she sat in what felt like a couple inches of water. Her sweatpants lay abandoned a couple feet away from her.

She felt at peace with the water now; she had forgiven the gentle flow for nearly drowning her. It had been Abigail's fault after all. She smiled as she dug her toes into the soft mud, cupping water in her hands and pouring it over her hair. Abigail felt goose bumps rise on her neck as the cold water ran down her spine. It felt nice, almost as if she was washing away the experience.

After spending some quality time with the lake, she said goodbye to the cool water and found her pants. She wandered back over to the bed and took the towel that had been abandoned there, and slowly made her way over to the bathroom. After fiddling with the knobs, she managed to get the hot water running.

Abigail had not taken a shower in years. She had only a bathtub in her apartment, and this standing up business felt strange to her. It was awkward bending over and searching blindly for shampoo or body wash. She wanted her bathtub back. It had been the perfect size for her – she could stretch out her feet and just lie in bubbles forever. Abigail remembered she had actually fallen asleep in the tub one time; Doug had found her, much to both of their embarrassment. She knew that all of the bubbles had gone out by the time he stupidly came charging in.

The water began to run cold. She cursed at the showerhead, annoyed at its inability to keep hot water running. Stepping out, she dried herself and changed back into her previous clothes. Abigail deemed them her pajamas. She began to brush out the knots in her hair with the hairbrush she placed near the sink, along with her other things.

A knock came from the door.

"Yes?" she called out.

"Are you… decent?" came a cautious voice. Abigail couldn't help but be thankful that the Phantom did not come barging through doors.

"Fully clothed." Abigail replied, continuing the process of de-knotting.

She heard the door open hesitantly. Abigail felt the Phantom sneak around behind her and pause near the toilet.

"Would you… You know, leave?" he asked awkwardly.

"Gotta take a piss?" she asked, teasing.

"If you wouldn't mind, yes." She heard a slight bit of annoyance.

"I can't even see, so unless you're embarrassed that I would _hear_ you-"

"_Get out of my bathroom_!" the Phantom screamed, pushing her outside and shutting the door behind her.

Abigail laughed to herself, continuing to brush her hair as she patiently waited. A couple minutes later, she heard the door open.

"God, that took forever. You must have really had to go." She commented, walking directly into him.

He moved Abigail off to the side as he walked past her, "I was not just using the bathroom!" he growled, "I shaved as well!"

"You shave?"

"I'm a _man_."

"Are you?"

Abigail heard an annoyed growl from across the room. She grinned to herself. Annoying the Phantom was much more fun than she had anticipated; much more fun than annoying Aimee or Doug.

A painful twinge went through her heart at the thought of Doug… and Aimee. She shook it off.

"Come here." The Phantom demanded. Abigail went to the sound of his voice. He was near the table.

After feeling around, she grabbed an apple from the food pile, took a bite, and replied, "Yeah?"

A pause.

"I'm over here."

Abigail walked closer to the voice.

"What?" she asked, getting slightly annoyed.

"Come sit with me." The Phantom said. She heard him pat the seat of the organ. Abigail walked over to it, felt at the seat, and slowly sat down. She wondered why he wanted her next to him. She squirmed nervously when nobody spoke. He sat there, unmoving. Abigail felt his eyes staring at her.

Abigail awkwardly took a bite out of her apple and swallowed. It made a large _gulp_.

"Do not eat at my organ." The Phantom suddenly said, ripping the food from her hand and tossing it aside.

"I'm _hungry_."

"You will eat later."

"I was eating now."

"And now you are not."

"Because you took my apple away!"

"I will take your life away if you do not stop talking!"

She stopped talking, and heard the Phantom sigh.

"Thank you." The Phantom said, regaining his composure, "Now, back to business."

Abigail waited. Nothing happened. She wanted to ask him what she was there for, but she definitely did not want to speak so soon. The last thing she wanted right now was to be brutally murdered.

"There, finished." The Phantom finally said. Abigail frowned.

"Finished what?"

"I wrote a song." He replied, shuffling some papers around, "I want you to help me play it."

Abigail fiddled her thumbs, "I can't read the music, you know."

"I know. I will read the notes to you, and you will play them." He stated simply.

Sadness overcame her. She didn't want someone to take the place of Doug so soon. He was the one who read her music, not an ominous voice in the dark that she hardly knew. For some reason she knew that he would become impatient with her rather quickly. Doug would go at her pace, repeating things whenever she needed him to with a gentle patience.

"I don't know." She said quietly.

"Why not? How did you learn before?"

"I had a friend read them to me."

"How is this any different?" he asked, agitated.

"It's just… I don't know. _He_ normally read me the music."

A pause.

"I see." The Phantom said, no emotion, "Very well. Later then."

She heard him shuffle some pages around before he grew quiet again.

Abigail felt even more awkward now. There was really no point in sitting next to him. She was about to get up and leave, to do what she didn't really know, but stopped when she heard him speak.

"Would it make you… happier… if I brought the piano from the stage down here?" he asked, unsure.

A smile slowly grew on her face. While his organ was absolutely amazing, it definitely did not have the same tune as a normal piano. Playing piano pieces on an organ was very different, and often sounded messy. She knew that this would frustrate her in the future, so she nodded quickly to the Phantom.

"Yes, that would be amazing." She breathed. Abigail got up, the smile still plastered across her face.

"Abigail?" the Phantom asked quickly.

"Yeah?"

"Are… You are not… displeased being here, are you?"

She pondered this question. Was she happy here? She had not been here long. It was hard to say. She definitely was not here by choice, however. Did that mean she couldn't be happy? What made one place better to live in than the other? She felt solitude in this underground lair. Abigail desperately wanted to see her friends again. But… She was starting to almost have fun with the Phantom. It almost felt normal when she woke up here rather than her house. She was beginning to not expect Aimee or Doug storming through her door in the morning, yelling at the top of their lungs some sort of good morning.

"Ask me in a week." she shrugged, avoiding the question.

She heard the Phantom get up from the seat and casually pass her by, "Very well. I will retrieve the piano." He said as she listened to him climb onto the boat.

"Phantom?" Abigail called out to the darkness.

"What?" came a distant reply.

"What's your name?" Abigail risked, asking the night.

She heard the darkness shuffle around awkwardly. The night moved back toward her, took her chin and made her face him. As she looked into twilight, the constant veil surrounding her seemed to lift slightly. Abigail reached out and found a mask. She glided a finger across its edges, imagining what it looked like as she felt him tense up.

"Ask me in a week." Came his rough voice before disappearing into the gloom, leaving Abigail standing by herself.

* * *

><p>Aimee and Doug walked together down the street, passing by the police car stationed outside of the Opera House. It had become almost a ritual for them; get a cup of coffee at eight, walk to the Opera House, see if anything had happened since the previous day, and then drive to Aimee's.<p>

Doug sipped at his coffee in the car.

"Do you think they're going to find her?" Doug asked, nervous. It had been almost four days since they had last seen Abigail.

"I don't know." Aimee said, one hand on the wheel, the other holding onto her French vanilla coffee, "I'm sure they will do a better job than us, though." She said, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I feel we should be out there too." Doug said with a frown.

"We don't know what we're doing, Doug. And we need to make sure that we don't get in the way of the _real_ cops."

"They don't even know where to start!"

"Neither do we!"

"Yes we do."

"Where?"

"The Opera House."

Aimee's eyes widened, "Doug! You said we can't go in there!" she said, panicking

"I know what I said!" Doug yelled back, "But it's better than nothing! I haven't been able to shake the fact that something might be in there. The cops don't know it because we didn't tell them. But what if we just sneak in one night? Nobody will know. Hell, if _you two _did it in broad daylight, _I_ can get us in there at dusk."

"But what about the renovators?" Aimee asked nervously as she pulled into her driveway.

"They won't be there at night." Doug said smartly, opening the door of the car and getting out. Aimee followed, approached the door, and unlocked it. The two of them stepped inside the warm house, took off their jackets and shoes, and settled down on her living room couch. Aimee wore black solos with a bright pink t-shirt. Doug was wearing jeans and a dark blue long sleeved shirt.

Aimee had hundreds of songbooks laying around ranging from movies to plays. She picked up one labeled _Phantom of the Opera_, and began to read over the lines for the millionth time. Doug looked at the cover.

"When is your audition?" He asked politely.

Aimee smiled at him, "In a couple days."

"Do you think you're going to get the part of Christine?"

"I hope so!" Aimee replied, giddy with excitement, "I was planning on locking myself up in here until the audition, but with Abigail and all…"

"Yeah…"

An uncomfortable silence passed the two of them. They simultaneously drank from their coffee.

"Do you want to hear a song?" Aimee asked nervously, looking at him with a small smile. Her eyes seemed to brighten at the idea.

Doug shrugged, "Sure."

Aimee clapped her hands in glee, "Okay! I'll sing Masquerade!" She hopped off of the couch, grabbed a set of fans hanging around, and got into position, "And don't laugh! I'm practicing, so I might get the dance mixed up a bit!"

Doug laughed and nodded. Aimee coughed a little in preparation before looking at him expectantly, "I hope you will help me with the first part? I _know_ you know it!"

Doug rolled his eyes, but started the song with her.

_Misseur Andre!_

_Misseur Firmin!_

_D__ear Andre what a splendid party!__  
><em>  
><em>The prologue to a bright new year!<em>_  
><em>  
><em><span>Quite a night, I'm impressed.<span>_

_Well one does ones best._

_Here's to us!_

_A toast for the city!_

_What a pity that the Phantom can't be here!_

Abigail squealed with glee at him singing. He did not admit it, but he had a rather lovely voice. She whipped the fans out and seductively wagged her eyebrows at him over the fan as she began to sing, him laughing.

_Masquerade!__  
><em>_Paper faces on parade.__  
><em>_Masquerade!__  
><em>_Hide your face, so the world will never find you!__  
><em>_Masquerade!__  
><em>_Every face a different shade.__  
><em>_Masquerade!__  
><em>_Look around -__  
><em>_there's another__  
><em>_mask behind you!_

Aimee spun around and danced as she sang, moving her fans across her body along with the rhythm, perfectly in beat. She jumped up on her coffee table and almost slipped right back off from her socks. Her arms flayed around for a second before regained her composure, and began to chant,

_Flash of mauve!__  
><em>_Splash of puce!__  
><em>_Fool and king!__  
><em>_Ghoul and goose!__  
><em>_Green and black!__  
><em>_Queen and priest!__  
><em>_Trace of rouge!__  
><em>_Face of beast!__  
><em>_Faaces!_  
><em>Take your turn.<em>_  
><em>_Take a ride.__  
><em>_On a merry - go - round__  
><em>_In an inhuman race._

Doug clapped as she danced around on her coffee table, a grin plastered across his face all the while. He was having fun watching her; she was rather good. Aimee chanted the next verse, and Doug joined in, taking the part of Raoul as she approached it.

_But who can name the face?_

Abigail sang another part of the chorus, still dancing upon the table, practicing dancing with her fans, Doug singing along whenever she needed more than one voice with her.

He jumped up as it was time for Raoul and Christine's part. He gave a dramatic bow to Aimee, still standing on the coffee table. She giggled and took his outstretched hand, giving a small curtsey herself before jumping off of the table. Doug spun her around the living room before they began,

"Think of it, our secret engagement. Look, your future bride. Just think of it!" Aimee said, giggling as she hit Doug on the shoulder with her fan.

"Why is it secret? What have we to hide? You promised me." Doug replied, acting hurt.

"No, Raoul, please don't, they'll see."

"Well then let them see. It's an engagement, not a crime. Christine, what are you afraid of?" he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. He took her hand and held it to his face as they sang,

_Let's not argue_(_Let's not argue_)  
><em>Please pretend<em> (_I can only hope_)  
><em>You will understand in time<em> (_I'll understand in time_)

Doug joined in this time with the chorus, dancing with Aimee this time. They laughed as the two of them twirled about the room pulling each other closer and closer as they went along. They paused just before they began to sing the dramatic ending of the song before the Phantom's part. The two of them faced each other, Doug copying Aimee's dancing.

_Masquerade!__  
><em>_Paper faces on parade__  
><em>_Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you__  
><em>_Masquerade! Every face a different shade__  
><em>_Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you__  
><em>_Masquerade! Buring glances,turning heads__  
><em>_Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you__  
><em>_Masquerade! Grinnning yellows, Spinning reds__  
><em>_Masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you._

The two of them stopped, gasping for breath as they finished the last note, and collapsed next to each other in a fit of laughter. It took awhile for them to regain their composure.

"Well, I think you'll do great." Doug said, grinning at her.

Aimee blushed slightly, "Thanks, Doug."

* * *

><p>After spending almost an hour trying, and failing, at the task at hand, Erik was beginning to rethink his offer to bring the piano down to the lair. The piano weighed much more than he had originally anticipated. It was also quite fragile, which he discovered after almost destroying the piano when sliding it into the edge of a wall.<p>

Erik sat down on the stool in frustration. He had waited for nearly an hour before the bumbling renovators had finally left for their break; looking around, they weren't doing that bad of a job. Of course he remembered the Opera House back in its original glory. They would come nowhere near what it used to be, but they were trying extremely hard. He gazed upon the statues and the newly painted walls. Some of the paintings were taken away to be restored, as well as many statues.

The Phantom didn't know what he was going to do once they finally finished it. Many people would be visiting the Opera House almost every day. It would make his life ten times more difficult, trying to keep people from snooping around and accidentally finding his hideout. He had successfully remained hidden for, how long? He couldn't remember. All Erik remembered was anger and loneliness before Abigail. But he felt so much more now. He felt happiness for what seemed like the first time.

He wanted to make her at least somewhat happy as he locked her up with him. At the thought, he turned back to the piano, and continued to push it along the passage. He got to an old dressing room (the name had long since faded, and he refused to acknowledge the past owner of the room, even in his own mind), and shoved the piano through the mirror. Erik almost cheered when it fit; a centimeter more and he would have had to break in the wall, and that would take awhile. There was no doubt as to whether or not he would do it.

After arriving at the boat, Erik wiped the sweat off of his brow and contemplated how to transfer it onto the floating object. Would it sink the boat? Maybe he should build a bigger boat. He shook his head at the thought. That would be far too tedious. Looking around, he saw a spare bit of wood. He placed it down on the ground and used it as a ramp to get into the boat.

Erik thanked whatever God that had been watching over him when the boat only sank a few inches. He began the slow process of rowing to the lair, checking the piano every ten seconds. As he neared his home, he distantly heard Abigail playing on the organ. He closed his eyes, letting the music fill him. It did not sound like any particular piece; he realized she was improvising. This seemed natural; she had spent most of her time on the piano, how would she know any organ songs?

The song felt content. It was not happy or sad, it was somewhere around the middle. At time the music would suddenly become very slow and depressing; however, it would be followed by great leaps of happiness, and back into relaxed. She sounded like baby getting excited at the discovery of her own two feet. He almost laughed as she attempted to implement the pedals with little success. He made a mental note on teaching her how to use them properly. But for now, he was happy just listening to her musical ramblings.

Erik almost didn't notice the boat gently hitting land when he arrived. He had been far to enthralled with the music. After quickly cleared his mind, ignoring her playing, he went to work on the piano. Erik took out the wooden plank that he took along and eventually got the piano down on the ground. It took awhile to maneuver around all of the small bumps and rocks in the ground, but he eventually got the piano next to the organ. Turning back to Abigail, Erik noticed that she was still playing, but much softer now for she had been listening to him.

"Is that the piano?" Abigail asked. He could tell she was holding back excitement.

Erik nodded. Realizing she couldn't see, he stepped over and said, "Yes."

Abigail stopped playing and gave a squeal of delight, "That's amazing!" she yelled, running into him in her attempt at getting to the piano. Erik chuckled under his breath as he helped her to sit at the piano. Abigail cracked her knuckles and began to play The Sting theme song, a happy little tune. She laughed as the cheery little notes rang off of the walls before stopping.

"This is in good condition for having been up there for god knows how long." She commented, hands in her lap, "Thank you!"

Erik smiled to himself, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Of course."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Several days later…<strong>_

Aimee was about to pee herself. Why did she have to go first?

"Aimee, you're going to do great!" a girl said from behind her. Aimee couldn't remember her name, so she simply smiled weakly at her.

"Yeah, Aimee!" said Grace, one of her friends. They had been studying together for about a year now, but Aimee still did not feel as if they were very close.

"Thanks Grace." Aimee said, quickly fixing her hair in the mirror, "Okay. I'm ready."

Aimee pushed back her shoulders, lifted her head, and made her way onto the stage. She smiled at the judges in the seats, and stepped in front of the microphone.

"Hello… Uh, Aimee, yes?" came a voice from one of the three people in the audience.

"Hi, yes, Aimee here." Aimee said awkwardly.

"Yes, yes…" the woman repeated, brushing back a stray piece of black-grey hair as she scribbled something down. She seemed around her mid, late sixties.

"What are you going to be performing for us today?" the man asked next to her. He was early thirties, black hair, and a dark skin tone. He had a spunk in his voice. Aimee immediately liked him.

"Think of Me." Aimee said hesitantly.

"Very well." He said, "Go on. I'm assuming you are trying out for Christine?"

"Yes, sir."

Aimee coughed a little. She felt a strange bit of déjà vu as a random pianist began to play the song. Abigail's face, twisted with fear, popped into her mind. She quickly shook it off, concentrating.

_Think of me, think of me fondly _

_When we've said goodbye_

_Remember me, once in awhile _

_Please promise me you'll try_

Aimee couldn't help but see Abigail's face again. It began to haunt her as she sang. Guilt sprouted up within her, not knowing why. She didn't forget about Abigail, she thought of her every day!

_Then you'll find that once again you long _

_To take your heart back and be free_

_If you'll ever find a moment_

_Spare a thought for me_

Did she and Doug want to take their hearts from Abigail? She had been gone for nearly a week now, and things felt so much more different. Was that a good thing? Did they not want her there anymore? Did Aimee want Abigail back? What if she had died? Fear struck her, Abigail's terrified, helpless blind eyes searching the darkness blurred Aimee's vision as she sang the next couple verses.

_Think of me, think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine me trying too hard_

_To put you from my mind_

If Abigail was still alive, did she think that Doug and her were going to save her? Had she given up hope by now? What if she was being tortured by someone? Was it really the Phantom she saw? Aimee's voice almost cracked at the thought.

She pulled through, managing to hit all of the notes perfectly at the end of the song. Aimee heard the two judges clapping for her, even the pianist had stood up and gave her a polite clap. She saw none of this. All Aimee saw was Abigail bleeding in a cage under the Opera House, whispering, "_Aimee… Doug… Help me…"_

"Excellent work, Aimee! Very well done, quite promising indeed!" said the older woman. Aimee shakily nodded, said a quick thank you and shuffled off of the stage. She sprinted out into the cold, wildly searching for a secluded area.

Aimee darted behind a large dumpster and proceeded to throw up violently. She shook her head and groaned as her stomach churned. They needed to find out where Abigail was. Her first step was to find Doug.

It took about ten minutes to drive over to his house. She knocked on the door; a couple moments later Aimee found herself face to face with Doug.

"Hey." Doug said.

"I know it's risky. But we need to find Abigail. Tonight."

"What?" Doug exclaimed, "Why tonight?"

Aimee looked at him sadly, "I can't get her out of my mind... It's as if shes haunting me. Waiting."

Doug frowned, but a mutual understanding passed between them. Abigail was consuming them. The police were getting nowhere. They had to prepare.

Tonight was the night.

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><p><strong>Eeee!<strong>

**TheIdesofMarch brought up a question that I thought I should share. Everyone is indeed speaking French... I'm sorry I never mentioned it before!**

**Next chapter may be a little bit, I have nothing else written past this lol. Normally I have at least one chapter written in advance. **

**REVIEW! Tell me how you liked/hated it! I want your opinions/ideas!**


	7. Open Your Eyes

**Hey guys! Sorry for the delay... I've been so busy lately with things. So much stress. Ugh. I forced myself to finish this just now, so I'm sorry if there are some things wrong, I haven't edited it yet. Like I said, I literally just finished it lol. I wanted to give you something!**

**RedDeathLvr: Erik is a sweety underneath :P I try to update! It's getting hard ;_;**

**TheIdesofMarch: Thank you! And yeah, still thinking on the whole living part :P I have one idea... But I'm not sure. I need to research it! Not telling though, it has to be a surprise!**

**Plauge's Vengence: Sorry, he is not a vampire xD Hahaha. Thank you for your review! Review more! :D**

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><p>Sweet,<em> budding love; all shapes and sizes, all different in their formation. Love comes from many different sources. Sometimes, true love may even grow from hate or fear. Other times it sneaks up on you, surprising the two people in question. Nobody knows when love will strike; only that when it does, it is almost impossible to ignore.<em>

_To ignore love is to ignore the soul. Love becomes a part of their very being, consuming and enthralling them. Suddenly, without love, they have nothing. They can't live without love, they want it, _need_ it. Should they have to live without the other, the world becomes a shade darker…_

_However, to embrace this newly found love may be difficult. When you find someone that you wish to share your mind and soul to, it is frightening. How could you trust them? Suddenly, you're not so sure about the other person. But… You can't get them out of your mind. _

_This, my friends, is the when you fall. You fall into the deep pit, the unending doom that began the moment you met the other._

_You fall in love._

_And never get back out._

Doug searched through his basement. Aimee had gone home to change into something more suitable for the task ahead of them; heels would not do. He had changed as well, now sporting a black long sleeve shirt, black pants, and black combat boots, a black bandana around his forehead, and black gloves with the knuckles cut through.

Doug looked around the dimly lit room; it had various objects crowding the walls, ranging from tools to bicycles. He was searching for very specific items, however. Doug snatched a long rope with a hook from the wall and threw it over his shoulder. He spotted his lock picking tools on the table near the rope, and picked them up, placing them in his pocket. His basement was full of sketchy items he realized. He shook off the thought, attaching a hunting knife to his waist. It wasn't his fault. His family had been full of less than model citizens. He would never admit it to Abigail, but he had been a minor thief himself. Doug rarely stole now, however. He saw no need in it.

He gathered more supplies including a flashlight (attaching it to his belt), and an earpiece walkie talkie (he put it around his ear; he would give the other one to Aimee, in case they were separated). Doug slowly walked over to a small box in the very back of the basement. It had a small lock on it, and was decorated with an unusual design. He took the necklace from his neck. A key was attached to it. He slipped the key into the box and with a twist of his wrist, a small _click_! bounced off of the walls. Doug opened it cautiously.

Inside was a small handgun. He stared at it, contemplating. Should he bring it along and risk Aimee catching him with it? Neither of them knew he had a gun. It was strictly for emergencies. Was this an emergency? He didn't even know if they were going to find Abigail there. After an internal battle, Doug loaded the gun, put the safety on, and slipped it into his boot just as a knock came from the front door.

"Oh, Doug, someone's here!" came his grandmother's voice.

"Yes, Grandma." He said patiently. Doug walked into the house and opened the door. Aimee stood there, dressed almost exactly the same as him, with the exception that Doug's hair was not in two braids cascading down his back.

Aimee glanced at the supplies in his hand, twirling her car keys nervously, "Are you ready?" she said, clicking her own flashlight on and off.

"Yeah." Doug said. He followed her to her car, put everything in the trunk, and they drove off to the Opera House.

* * *

><p>Abigail smiled as she heard the Phantom sing to himself. His voice was so… beautiful. There was truly nothing that could ever possibly describe it; words could not even come close. Extraordinary? Breathtaking? Electrifying? Stunning? No, they were all far too weak and meaningless.<p>

The Phantom's voice brought her into a different world. Abigail felt herself drifting towards him as he sang the notes, perplexed by the sheer perfection of his tune. Nothing was out of place; each word meant to be sung the exact way that he had sung it. He was strong and confident; Abigail could only pray that she may become as skilled as him on the piano as he was at singing.

She sat down on the cool ground and listened peacefully. Abigail could hardly make out the words, but she didn't care. They were so pure and complex. She laid down and rested her head on the rocks. Suddenly, she felt very tired; her eyelids seemed to be like rocks. Abigail heard the singing come closer and closer to her, the voice rising and falling as her troubles seemed to fly away.

She felt the Phantom sit down next to her. Abigail felt frozen in place, she couldn't move; but she felt at ease at the same time. It was as if her body forced her to stay and listen. The Phantom's hand brushed back a piece of hair from her face. It sent shivered down her spine as she felt his gloved hand stroke her cheek. He sang the final notes under his breath, teasing her heart as the song disappeared into the air around them. She felt his hand slowly move away.

Abigail grabbed his hand, holding onto it as he jumped in fright.

"Phantom, wont you tell me your name?" Abigail asked softly.

It took a moment for him to respond, "My name is… Erik." He said softly; Abigail had to strain her ears to hear it.

"Erik?"

"Yes."

Abigail smiled gently. It was a fitting; soft, but quite sharp. She liked it.

"It's a wonderful name." Abigail complimented.

Erik helped her up before asking, "Would you like to get out of this pit for awhile?"

Abigail blinked a couple of times. Leave? Be free?...

"What do you mean?" She asked hesitantly.

"Would you like to explore the Opera House for a bit?" He stated more clearly.

She clapped her hands with excitement, "Oh, sure! I'd love to." Abigail exclaimed, "Where is the boat?" she then asked, turning in the opposite direction of the water and walking forward.

Erik grabbed her shoulder and led her in the right direction. She smiled sheepishly at the darkness as she was carefully guided into the small boat. Abigail heard Erik disappear for a moment before reappearing with her cane. He placed in on her lap.

"Oh, thanks!" Abigail said, taking the cane. She felt the boat began to move.

"I assumed you would need it. The entire Opera House is a little bit harder to manage than this underground island."

Abigail laughed in agreement. She listened to the water around them, hearing the echoes of her movements off of the walls. After awhile she concluded that she had no idea where they were any longer. Just as she was about to ask where they were going, the Phantom stopped the boat.

"We're here." He said mysteriously.

Erik took her hand and ordered her to start using her cane. The two of them went through an open hallway, and began their adventure.

* * *

><p>Aimee glanced at Doug as they drove in silence. He sat stiffly, staring straight ahead of him. She thought that he looked rather frightening; he had a freakishly determined look in his eye. Worry surrounded Aimee as she slowed to stop at a red light.<p>

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, looking back at the rode.

She saw Doug nod from the corner of her eye, "Yeah. Fine. I just… I don't know. It feels like it's been so long since I've seen her… But, it's only been around a week…"

"I know what you mean. Things are so different without her. I miss her." Aimee said sadly. She reached out a hand to Doug. After a moment, he took it in his own and gave it a squeeze. They didn't let go until they pulled to a stop a street away from the Opera House.

Doug got out first, going straight for the trunk. He collected the equipment and waited as Aimee slipped on a black bandana and her gloves. She nodded to him, signaling to go. The two of them snuck through the dimly lit streets. Aimee looked up; there was a full moon. Its eerie presence sent shivers down her spine as she noticed how much it looked like a face, staring at them almost accusingly…

It was witching hour.

They approached the gate, their boots creating dull _thuds_ against the pavement. Doug made a futile attempt at opening the gate; it was locked. He whipped out his lock-picking tools, and after carefully examining them, finally chose two that seemed just right. They all looked the same to Aimee.

As Doug began to work on the lock, he whispered smugly, "You didn't think Abigail learned how to pick a lock all by her little self, did you?"

Aimee rolled her eyes, "Yes, almighty one." She hissed sarcastically, "Just get it open!"

A small _click_ alerted them that they were now allowed to enter. The process was repeated at the main doors of the Opera House. The door creaked open loudly, revealing nothing but darkness. Aimee clicked on her light, eliminating a small circle ahead of them. Doug followed suit; they let the two bright orbs lead them inside, praying that they would guide them to Abigail… Or what was left.

* * *

><p>"Oh, I wish I could see the Opera House." Abigail pouted.<p>

"There is not much to see." Erik replied, looking about the gloomy walls. It was pitch black; only he would be able to see anything. His eyes had become accustomed to the dark over the years. Now that he began to think of it, he couldn't even remember how long he had even been down in his lair. It had felt like centuries.

"Well," Abigail said, holding onto his elbow as he led her through the hall, "I'm glad to finally get that smell of lake water out of my nose. The smell of fresh paint is quite welcoming."

Erik grunted in agreement. As he looked around, he could see the progress the renovators had made. They were moving along quite well, almost as if they were on a specific deadline. At the rate they were going, they would have most of the main areas almost complete in around four months. Erik frowned at the thought. In almost four months, people would be swarming the Opera House, dying for a glimpse at its beauty. He sighed.

"What's wrong?" He heard Abigail ask.

"Nothing." Erik grunted, "…It's not going to be very long now that the renovators will be finished, and I am unsure of how _private_ my home will be after."

He looked down at Abigail and saw her frowning through the darkness. Confusion overwhelmed him. Wouldn't she be happy if there were more people? It may even be her opportunity to escape from him. Pain shot through his heart at the thought of her leaving. Erik wanted to grab her hand and make sure she wouldn't go anywhere, but he restrained himself as he led her through the doorway to the stage. The two of them walked down the aisle, their footsteps silent against the new rug that the renovators had installed.

As they walked up the steps to the stage, Erik noticed how much had changed. The seats were now a different shade of red; he didn't like it. They looked more like blood than the cheery bright rose color that they had been before. He didn't want to look at blood. Erik had seen enough of it for one lifetime, even a prolonged one.

"Where are we now?" Abigail asked

"The stage."

He let Abigail take her hand off of his shoulder as she stepped out into the middle of the large wooden floor. She tapped her foot a couple of times, listening to the echoes erupting from the ground and slamming against the walls. Erik could almost see the cogs in her head turning as she calculated how length and width. She turned back to him with a small smile.

"I'm sure it's beautiful."

"It is." Erik whispered. He looked her up and down. She seemed so fragile and weak, he wondered how on earth she had made it this far. How could she have managed in this cruel world, searching blindly for a way around everything? He imagined people to be cruel and unforgiving. Would they not take advantage of her disability? Perhaps they did use her to their advantage. A sudden anger engulfed him. Abigail was friendly and sweet. He wanted to shield her from the world, to protect her from the evil it had shown to him. Erik began to walk towards her, not hiding the pain in his eyes; he did not need to hide anything around her.

Abigail heard him. She began to adjust her cane awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Erik ignored this, stopping a few inches away from her. He lifted her chin to his face and gazed into her bleak, unseeing eyes. Such a horrible disadvantage… And yet, it was a blessing to him. Those eyes had brought her to him and ignited something within him. They let him feel something again, allowed him to finally want to protect another. Erik ran his thumb along her jaw as a small tear fell from his eye, cascading down his cheek.

He left it.

"Erik?" Abigail asked quietly.

"Yes?" he breathed.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"None of your business."

Abigail pouted. He chuckled at her, and smiled when she grinned at his laugh.

"Erik, would you teach me to play the organ?" she asked, begging.

"Of course." Erik said without thinking, "But there is no organ here."

"Well not now." Abigail replied, rolling her dead eyes, "Later."

"Then what now?"

Abigail shrugged, "I don't know. What's there to do on a stage?"

Erik brushed back a piece of her hair, laughing, "What is there not to do on stage?"

"I don't know. I've never acted before."

"You don't need to act to have something to do. Do you dance?"

"I never learned." Abigail said with a shrug.

Erik looked at her, shocked, "How could you not learn to dance?"

"I never needed to."

"You need to, now."

"Why?"

"Because I will not have anyone who cannot dance live with me." Erik said, taking his hand off of her jaw and putting it in one of her hands.

Abigail blushed deeply, "I don't know."

Erik ignored her, "It's easy." He said soothingly, taking her other hand and putting it on his shoulder. She had to reach up quite a distance; he was rather tall. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer to him, "All you need to do is move your feet." And with that, he slowly began to move.

"I'm going to step on your feet!" Abigail cried, just as her left foot crushed his right foot. He laughed, scooped her up, and placed her feet on his own. They danced around, her feet on top of his, giggling like two children drunk on candy.

* * *

><p>Aimee and Doug moved slowly, peeking around each corner before they moved. They were silent snakes slithering around, searching for their prey. They were hunters tracking their rabbit. They were ghosts, thieves, burglars. Whatever made them feel sneakier, they would pretend to be. Aimee copied every movement Doug made, fearful she would destroy the entire operation.<p>

Eventually they made a full circle around the Opera House without running into anything but dark corners and dust.

"Now what?" Aimee hissed.

"I'm not sure." Doug whispered back, "Let's check other rooms."

The two made their way backstage, searching through various changing rooms. Eventually, they got to one with a large mirror inside.

"Doug, I don't think we're going to find anything." Aimee said quietly, looking around, dejected.

Doug walked over to the mirror and stared at his depressed reflection. He looked tired and defeated. How could he have let them believe they would find Abigail here? It was a waste of time. They looked stupid in their black attire, believing they would need it. Frustration and agitation slowly built up within him. His shoulders began to rise and fall; his eyes, searching wildly through his face, desperate to find something that was not to be found.

Doug yelled, and threw his fist at the mirror.

It shattered, revealing a hallway. They gasped at the secret corridor, forgetting about Doug's bleeding arm for a moment. Who had built it? Why was it there?

"The Phantom is real." Aimee whispered.

Doug continued to stare wide-eyed at the opening. He couldn't believe it. Was the Phantom real? Was he here now? Did he hear the glass shatter? What happened to Abigail?

"D-doug… Your arm…"

He looked down at his arm. Blood was gushing out of it, piece of glass lodged into his wrist. Suddenly he felt dizzy. Doug sat down on the ground, growing pale.

"I feel sick." He said.

"You're retarded." Aimee growled, grabbing her bandana off of her head. She hesitantly looked at the glass, "Should I take it out?"

"Might as well." Doug mumbled.

Aimee took his arm and calculated the wound. She wasn't sure how to go about it, but she knew she had to stop the bleeding somehow. Aimee grabbed one of the glass pieces, and carefully dislodged it from Doug's flesh. He yelled out in pain, grabbing his forehead. Blood followed. Panic struck her, and she rapidly took out the other piece and wrapped her bandana tightly around the cuts. She took Doug's bandana as well, applying it to the wound.

"We need to get you to a hospital." Aimee declared.

"No… If Abigail is here, this is our only chance to get her. Whoever has her will know we know he is here now once he finds the mirror."

"You're going to die if we don't get you stitched up!" Aimee yelled.

"I don't care!" Doug yelled back, his lips paling, "I need to find her!"

A pang of jealousy shot through Aimee. Why did Doug want to find Abigail so badly? Was she not good enough of a friend to him? She frowned, busying herself with his wound.

"We need to move quickly." She murmured, scooping Doug up from his armpit. She threw his arm over her shoulder, staring ahead of her with a blank expression as Doug struggled to keep up with her when she began to move through the mirror. Broken glass crunched under their feet as they descended into the darkness.

Aimee clicked on her flashlight, eliminating the hallway. It was covered in cobwebs and unlit torches. The walls were a pale brown stone; she imagined they used to be beautiful, evoking awe and delight. Now they stood only to be an eerie warning to those who passed them by.

The corridor eventually opened up into a large tunnel of water. No boat was present.

"There…" Doug moans, weakly pointing to a large chunk of wood. It had been tossed aside and ignored for god knows how long.

"Doug, you can hardly walk, let alone swi-"

"_Do it._"

She sighed. Aimee helped Doug over to the wood, grabbed it, and threw it in the water. She led him to the water and placed his arms around the wood, kept the flashlight above the water, and joined him on their makeshift swimmy. The two of them kicked, propelling themselves into the gloom.

* * *

><p>Abigail was in a trance. She had lost control of her body; only the Phantom was keeping her from collapsing onto the ground. His chest was pressed against hers as Erik guided them around the stage, throwing in a lean or a twirl as he hummed to her; they danced and pranced and glided. No; they flew. She had no idea what was going on but had no wish to understand. It was pure feeling nothing came between Erik and her. Abigail wanted to stay in this high, this exhilaration, forever.<p>

Erik began to slow down, twirling around in the same spot as he hummed, and stopped. He leaned her down slowly; she could feel his eyes piercing into her soul. Erik whispered to her. She couldn't understand him. All she could think about was his hand on her lower back, his breath on her neck, the grip on her hand slowly tightening as he pulled her closer. Nobody had held her like this before. It was as if the darkness was engulfing her, pulling her into its warm embrace.

"_Abigail_." He growled. It frightened her. He sounded wild.

"Erik?" she squeaked.

Silence. He did not move; the warm breath began to slow. His clutch on her lessened and he moved away. Abigail stepped off of his feet, blushing madly.

"I have not danced in quite awhile… You must forgive me, I enjoy it greatly." Abigail heard Erik say.

"Oh, it's alright." She replied with a small smile, "I like it. It was fun."

"Perhaps we could dance again sometime?" The night asked hopefully.

"Of course."

"Wonderful! Ahem. Well, we should return now. It is quite late. You should get some rest."

Abigail suddenly felt quite tired. She yawned in agreement, stretching out her arms, "Oh! You're right. Let's go then."

She grabbed Erik's hand to let him lead her away. She felt him jump in surprise, only to return the hold.

* * *

><p>Aimee squinted ahead of her. She could just make out a land mass about a hundred meters away.<p>

"Doug! Look!" she whispered, pointing. She saw him lift his head off of the damp plank and groan in acknowledgment. Aimee frowned. She had no idea how to bring him back out of here; Doug barely had enough strength.

It took them a few minutes to finally reach the shore. Aimee's eyes widened as she saw more and more of the small island; there was no doubt in her mind that it belonged to the Phantom. She pulled Doug ashore, propping him up in a chair that happened to be near. He passed out. Aimee sighed; she would have to wait until he woke up. For now, she had to look for signs of Abigail.

There was a table nearby with various foods. Cereals, fruits, water, bread, grains, and a very small amount of meat was laid out to be prepared. She moved on. The organ had sheet music all along. After careful examination, she did not recognize one of the songs. It was a duet labeled "_Mon Ange Tombé_". She shrugged it off.

Aimee moved on, passing by a spare piano and over to the swan bed. She walked over to the wardrobe near the bed and opened it and gasped.

Clothes for a woman Abigail's age filled the drawers. They were neatly organized by color and type. There was only one person in their right mind that would do such a thing. It was then that Aimee knew. Abigail was trapped inside the Phantom's lair.

Tears ran down her eyes as she collapsed onto the ground. How could she have just left her? She was probably tortured here with his madness; a prisoner of his mind. Who knows what vile things that he had done to her body and soul. Perhaps she had gone mad too? A quiet sob escaped her lips. How greedy she was to live her life normally when Abigail was down here. They should have come sooner.

But where was she now? Aimee wiped her tears away and replaced them with confusion. If this was the Phantom's lair, where was the Phantom? Where was his prisoner? Suddenly, she heard the sound of a boat cutting through water. She peaked her head around the corner and saw the Phantom, rowing a small boat through the lake, directly towards where Doug was.

Aimee had never felt fear before that moment. Every other time she had been afraid was nonsense. The fear that consumed her now she would remember for the rest of her life, for she saw Doug's life flash before her, and end with a crack of his sleeping neck.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to run out and grab Doug. She wanted to protect him and keep him safe.

But she did not want to die. Aimee was frozen in her spot as she watched the Phantom, singing something she could not understand, his eyes locked on Doug. She looked down and grabbed her throat, stopping a gasp from escaping. Abigail lay there, dead or sleeping she could not tell.

Aimee wanted to cry, to go to sleep. She wanted all of this to be a nightmare. Surely this could not be happening, not to her. This was what happened in books and movies. It wasn't real.

Aimee squeezed her eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them. Everyone was still there, only the Phantom was closer. She did it again and again, wishing the image to disappear.

She would not wake up.

* * *

><p><strong>Ahhhhhhhhh! I planned on this chapter being longer and more detailed... Sorry :( I havent had time! Dont hurt meh D: <strong>

**Well, time to do my homework! Haha. **

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	8. Dead Hearts

**Hi guys! Chapter 8 here... WARNING: THERE IS A BIT OF CURSING/FOUL LANGUAGE IN THIS CHAPTER. **

**Thanks for reviews... They make me very happy and make me write more!**

**Fiwen543: Thank you! I try to update as much as possible. :D**

**RedDeathLvr: Just wait till you read this chapter... Ahahahahaa :3**

**PhantomFan01: I hope you like the chapter then! Review and tell me what you think of it!**

**PanicAtTheEpicness: I could not stop smiling when I read your review. I love you. You literally made me start writing this chapter after I read your review because I was so happy. Alas, it came out a little later then expected... But you essentially got this chapter started :P All of your questions will be answered in time, and you also gave me a few ideas... THANK YOU! Haha!**

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**amysmiles: I enjoyed writing that part, it made me feel so happy! This chapter was a bit more, uh, less childish-happy-ness xD**

* * *

><p><em>Confused and hurt… Shame and embarrassment… Who was I to think… To believe…. What naiveté consumed me to imagine… What have I done? I understand nothing anymore. No words can describe this feeling of betrayal and hate. How could this happen… How could I have let this happen? Why am I so idiotic, so foolish, so helpless?<em>

_Nothing is real… And yet, I feel the reality crushing me down._

_Nothing is true… And yet, the undeniable truth is destroying my soul._

_Nothing is right… And yet, somehow, I feel it is correct. Somehow, I _knew_ it would be this way. _

_Why me? Why now? Why this? Anything but this… Anything but this intense loss, this fate now set before me. Only shame and defeat can be seen on my path. _

_I have lost. I am finished._

_I am dead._

* * *

><p>Aimee clung onto the curtain for her life.<p>

_Run, run, RUN!_

"NO!" she hissed to herself. Not this time.

She would stay. She would remain. She would prevail.

Somehow.

Aimee's fear was slowly consuming her; it took all of her effort to form coherent imagines in her mind. One moment the Phantom was in the boat; the next, he was lifting Abigail's limp body into his arms. He watched Doug as he silently moved past him, his cloak billowing behind his overpowering form. The man continued humming the odd tune as he made a beeline towards Aimee.

Her eyes widened. Where would she go? What should she do? Aimee whipped around, eyes darting around the small area. Her eyes found the wardrobe. She darted inside, just managing to leave an inch open before she heard the Phantom pass through the veil.

Aimee watched him as the giant figure gently placed Abigail on the swan bed's red covers. She appeared to be asleep. A sigh of relief almost escaped Aimee's lips. The Phantom stayed with Abigail for a moment, simply watching her. Aimee thought that this was odd. Why watch someone sleep? It freaked her out. The Phantom was obviously crazier than she had imagined.

After a moment, the Phantom got up, and dashed off towards Doug. Aimee whimpered. She slowly opened the wardrobe, snuck out, and crept over to the edge of the curtain to watch.

The Phantom was circling Doug as a wolf stalks its prey; his fists clenched and unclenched, wild eyes darting over his limp body. Doug didn't look good. Blood was dripping onto the ground; his face had almost completely paled. Aimee's fingers dug into her palm; she should have brought him to a hospital. It would be her fault if he died down in this cold, unforgiving realm. Why could she do nothing right?

Aimee's heart jumped as the Phantom suddenly darted at Doug. He grabbed his hair, pulling Doug's head back to stare into his face. Aimee covered her mouth as Doug's lips opened, letting out a painful moan, but not much more. The Phantom seemed dissatisfied. Aimee observed the dark figure as it moved around the island, collecting various objects that she could not make out.

She recognized one very clearly: his Punjab lasso.

Aimee almost passed out.

She _had_ to do something. But what? All she could do was watch in horror as the Phantom slipped the noose around Doug's and tighten it. Panic began to rise in her throat. She looked on as the Phantom rested his foot against Doug's shoulder, both hands wrapped around the Punjab, and began to pull.

Doug stirred, gagging and thrashing his arms about as he tried to grab the air around him. He opened his eyes, revealing the Phantom looming over him. Realization spread across his face. The Phantom was real. He was trying to kill Doug.

An roar erupted from Doug's lips, his eyes going into a frenzy. Despite the fact he was weak from blood loss, and the Phantom practically on top of him, Doug leapt from the chair and tackled the Phantom to the ground.

The Phantom was shocked, but not for long. He grabbed Doug's throat, and the two began to wrestle among the rocks and dirt. They twisted and rolled around, each one attempting to get ahead of the other. All Aimee saw was a whirlwind of fists and feet. Tears began to flow down her face. She wanted this all to stop, she wanted to take Doug away from here and help him and care for him and protect him.

Aimee's mind shut out common sense.

"_STOP_!" she screamed, bursting out from her hiding place

Both men froze, shocked to see her. They were in an awkward position, the Phantom's hand pressing Doug's face into the ground, one fist raised; Doug was holding him a distance away, his hand pushing against the Phantom's chin, one foot in his stomach, and the other fist also raised to strike. Both were bruised and bloody. They stared at her as if she was some kind of apparition, unaware of their own outlandish state.

"LEAVE HIM _ALONE_!" Aimee screamed even louder, sprinting over to them, coming to a stop a few feet away. Tears were replaced with anger to the Phantom; he had hurt Doug.

"_Excuse_ me," the Phantom replied in a chilling voice, "But _who_ do you think you _are_? And _you_," he said, looking down at Doug, "Who are _you_? _Why_ are you two in my home?"

"Mmmfmmgmff!" Doug attempted to yell through the Phantom's hand.

The Phantom was not amused in the slightest.

"Please," Aimee pleaded, reaching out to Doug, "Let him go. Please. He is hurt."

"Does it look like I care? You have no right to be down here!" the Phantom screamed, shoving Doug's face further into the ground. The Punjab was still hanging around his neck.

"Well… _You_ had no right to take Abigail!" Aimee screamed back.

The Phantom raised an eyebrow. He looked at Aimee, then back down to Doug, and back to Aimee again, "You… know Abigail? You are friends of hers?"

Aimee nodded quickly.

"You are the one who left her then?" The Phantom hissed at Aimee, "Abandoned her in her time of need? Didn't protect her from the evil old Phantom?"

Aimee sobbed, "N-no… I… It… I didn't.. I didn't mean to!"

"Oh? Of course, the entire world did not mean to betray me! Did not mean to take advantage of _her_!" he yelled, shaking a head in Abigail's direction, "I'm sure everyone takes excellent care of _her_! You don't even _care_ about Abigail!"

"That's not true!" Aimee cried back, "Everyone loves Abigail! _We_ love Abigail!" she said motioning between her and Doug. Doug nodded as best he could, "We take good care of her, and we miss her! Why do you think we are here? Taking a nice tour in the dead of night?" Aimee screamed, bewildered, "And how can you make such accusations? You stole Abigail off in the middle of the night, preventing her from returning home! You are keeping her prisoner and torturing her for all we know! Why do you even care about who is kind to her or not?"

The Phantom glared at her, "If you care so much about Abigail, why are you trying to save your male friend right now rather than sneaking Abigail away? After all, she _is_ standing right behind you. You would know that if you were truly here to help her."

Aimee froze. She looked behind her, and, sure enough, Abigail stood there, listening, her dead eyes staring straight ahead of her in shock.

"Abigail?" Aimee whispered.

"Aimee? Doug?" she murmured back, "Is that you?"

Aimee had almost forgotten about Abigail. Surely their screaming had woken her. She had not even considered it. Aimee sprinted up to her and slammed her into a hug. Abigail did not hug her back.

"Why are you here?" she asked, confused.

"Why would we not be here?" Aimee cried, squeezing her, afraid she would disappear again, "We came to rescue you, but Doug is really hurt! He needs to get to a hospital! We need to get you out of here!"

Aimee pulled away from her. Abigail was frowning, a confused expression corrupting her face.

"You… You came to rescue me?" she said, scratching the back of her head. She was wearing a black tank top with black sweat pants. Upon further inspection, Aimee noticed she had a pair of white slippers on her feet. She ignored it.

"Yes!" Aimee said, shaking her shoulders, "Get your things! We're leaving!"

Abigail grabbed Aimee's wrist, swaying a little bit, "Aimee.. I… It's been so long… I'm… I don't… I don't know what to do."

"You don't need to think, Abigail, just get your cane and we can leave!"

"Who said she is leaving?" The Phantom called from behind. Aimee turned around and screamed.

Doug lay motionless upon the ground. She sprinted past the Phantom, dropping to her knees beside Doug. She felt for a pulse. It was there; barely.

"What did you do to him?" she sobbed, pulling Doug into her arms.

"Get out of my sight." The Phantom hissed, "The only reason I do not kill you where you stand is because Abigail would never forgive me. Should you return, I will not be as kind." and with a swish of his cape, the Phantom grabbed Doug and Aimee violently, dragged them into the boat, jumped in, and began to led them away.

"Abigail!" Aimee screamed.

"Aimee!" she cried after her, drunkenly running after them. Aimee watched as Abigail tripped over a rock, fell, and smashed into the ground. She cried out as Abigail slowly got up, holding her knee in pain.

The last thing she heard was Abigail calling out Doug's name.

She watched Abigail's pained figure until she could no longer make out her form. Slowly, she turned around and faced the Phantom. He had his back to her as he quickly led the boat along the water. She shivered in fear, almost seeing his back muscles move as he pumped at the long oar.

Aimee pulled Doug close to her. She torn off pieces of his shirt and attempted to re-bandage his wound; she could hardly see through the tears.

They had failed. She had failed. Abigail was gone, forever.

"You disgust me."

Aimee looked up at the Phantom. He was watching her, "W-what?" she cried

"You. You two. You disgust me." He repeated.

"Why?" she asked, clutching Doug closer.

"You claim to have come down here to rescue Abigail, that you still care for her, and yet, here you are, having given up. You probably only did this to feel better about yourselves. Frankly, I'm disappointed. I knew that someone would eventually come looking for Abigail. I did not know that it would be her two closest friends, practically her family I'd assume since she told me she had none other than _two friends_, who had since then realized how great their lives were without her."

"How dare you-"

"Do you interrupt me." The Phantom cut in coolly, "I am no fool. I know she loved this man here." He motioned to Doug, "She thought of him constantly. She wouldn't even let me read her music she missed him, and you, I'd assume, too much. Abigail had been hanging onto a hope that you two would come down here guns blazing. That slowly faded, however, as time went on."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You should know how much emotional damage you have done coming down here. We were fine, she was fine. _I_ was even fine for a little bit."

"I don't care about you." Aimee snarled.

The Phantom sighed, "As do all. Abigail, however, has become something like a friend to me. And this brings me to my last point. Should you ever think of coming back down here, and try to take away my little pianist, I will not hesitate to hang you from the ceiling, cut off your fingers and toes, one by one; I will let you bleed out as I cut open every limb that you have. You will feel pain in places that you did not even know existed. And you, I guarantee, will suffer through every waking moment of it, for I will keep you awake until the very last breath that you will breathe on this Earth leaves your lungs."

The Phantom turned back around, continuing along the water.

Aimee couldn't move. Her arms would not respond, her breaths coming out in short, violent puffs. What just happened? She tried to make sense of the Phantom's words, but her mind refused. Aimee thought back on the events that had occurred. What had the Phantom and Abigail been doing all of this time anyway?

Aimee gave a small cough. The Phantom slowly turned around and met her eye. Aimee quickly looked away, hastily muttering, "What have you and Abigail been doing."

"You believe that I have been torturing her."

Aimee did not respond.

"It would be a lie to say I have not laid a hand on her." Aimee whimpered. The Phantom quickly followed, "However, I have not recently. As I said before, me and Abigail have become quite… Close."

"_How_?"

The Phantom sneered at her, "Why do you ask so many questions? You are exactly like Abigail! Are all women these days so arrogant?"

"These days? How long have you been alive?"

"Why don't you consult my book, or perhaps the movie?" The Phantom replied, rolling his eyes.

"So they _are_ real?"

"To an extent."

"Where does the extent end?"

"_Be silent!" _The Phantom yelled.

Aimee shut up. Moments later, they stopped at the large hallway that Aimee had practically dragged Doug down. The Phantom threw Doug over his shoulder, grabbed Aimee's arm, and quickly led the two through the dark corridor, through the broken mirror (The Phantom growled, muttering something about getting a new one), and up to the doorway of the Opera House. The Phantom practically threw Doug at Aimee, opened the door, and shoved them out without a word.

Aimee jumped as the door slammed behind her. She instantly looked down at Doug, gently brushing back his shaggy hair. She had to get to a hospital before it was too late.

* * *

><p>Abigail cried. Not loudly or overly dramatic. It was a silent, painful shedding of tears. They fell slowly down her cheeks, falling off of her face, and dying on the ground. Her legs moved slowly over to the table. Hands searched the large surface, eventually finding a bowl and a spoon. Abigail's adventure came to an end when she located a box of cereal, she wasn't sure what kind, and collapsed into a chair. She felt heavy and broken.<p>

Abigail opened the box slowly. She poured out the contents of the box, missing the bowl entirely; she didn't care. Abigail rested her head on the table, hearing small _crunches_ of the unidentified cereal as she did so, and began to think.

What had happened in the past hour? All had seemed perfectly fine. She and Erik had explored a bit of the Opera House. They danced; oh, had they danced. He touched her, held her; she felt him and let him draw her in. It had been exhilarating, the way that he moved alongside her and whispered sweet nothings into her head. She had been at peace for the first time in what seemed like years. Not even Doug could have done what Erik had done to her. It was pure feeling, no outside factors. Just touch and thought.

But then, she woke up to screams of fear. Confused and worried, she had jumped out of the swan bed, unsure of how she had gotten there, and crept up to the edge of the platform. She listened as she heard what Abigail believed to be Erik, Doug, and Aimee arguing. But, how could that be? She refused to believe it was them, simply listening to their babblings in shock until someone acknowledged her. Only Erik had noticed her it seemed.

But then, he took them away. They were gone now, forever it seemed. Erik had threatened them and hurt Doug. Somehow, this was not as terrifying as Abigail probably should have thought it was. Her concern for Doug and Aimee seemed to have almost diminished slightly. How could that be? Perhaps time had just took its course. However, how could a little over a week change so much? It seemed Aimee had changed as well. Her hug appeared to be almost… Forced? Abigail clutched her hair. What had Aimee and Doug been doing?

Maybe the Phantom had been right… Perhaps what he had said to Aimee was true. That they had moved on. They didn't care about her anymore; that their rescue mission was only to make themselves feel better. How… After all of these years…

Abigail heard the boat returning. She listened as it gently hit the ground, and as Erik's soft footsteps slowly got off. He did not move, as far as Abigail could tell. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt his eyes staring at her. It took all of her strength to stop her sobs from before. She did not want Erik to see her cry.

Erik slowly walked over to Abigail, his footsteps louder now and more defined. They jumped off of the walls and bounced back to them, creating an eerie contrast against the deafening silence. Abigail felt a hand slide up her back and rest on her shoulder; it would have been comforting if she didn't know that the hand belonged to the one who had severed her from the two people in the world that she considered her family, traitors or not.

"Abigail…"

"Please… Do not speak with me." Abigail hissed through the table, tightening her grip on her hair.

"Abigail, if we can just talk about this-"

"No!" she screamed, slamming her hands on the table as she threw her head up, "There isn't even anything to talk about!"

"There is everything to talk about!" Erik replied with the same volume, swinging the chair around so it faced him. Abigail felt him kneel down, grabbing her shoulders with both of his hands. She unwillingly felt tears begin to flow down her face as Erik continued to speak, "I know exactly what you are going through… Please, let me help you. You have been abandoned by what you considered your world, your two friends. Everything is a blur right now. You are confused and hurt and scared. The last thing that you were counting on turned out to be a big fat lie. I have been through all of this. I understand you, and I probably am the only one who ever will. If you do not let me in, I can promise you, Abigail, you will turn into what I was before I met you."

Abigail's shoulders shook, "Y-you… You… threw them from m-me… You forced them away… It's _your_ fault they are gone!"

"I was _protecting_ you, Abigail!" the Phantom roared, shaking her shoulders; his voice beginning to rise as he drew closer to her face, "They only cared of each other now! You couldn't see it becau-"

"BECAUSE I'M BLIND?" Abigail screamed, pushing his face away. She jumped up from the chair, rushing back and forth as she ranted, "I KNOW. I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING. POOR ABIGAIL, CAN'T PROTECT HERSELF. POOR ABIGAIL, DOESN'T KNOW WHATS GOING ON. POOR ABIGAIL, CAN'T DO ANYTHING FOR HERSELF; WHAT A SHAME, SHE'S GOING TO NEED SOMEONE TO HOLD HER HAND FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE." She panted, coming to a halt in front of Erik, jabbed a finger into his chest and continued, " Who the _fuck _deemed YOU my hand holder, Erik? Did you just magically decide for yourself that you needed to protect me? _Did I ask_? Did someone else want you to? Or did you just _feel the need_? You just selfishly decided that you, probably for once in your entire life, wanted to fix something, right? I just _happened_ to be the first fucking thing you saw in a hundred years, _right_?"

"No-" Erik said weakly.

"Oh, fuck you! I _hate_ you! I don't understand _anything_ that you do! Why would you… How could… Ugh! You… Just… GET _AWAY_ FROM ME!" and with that, Abigail stormed off to the swan bed. She slammed a fist into the pillow, threw her face down, and screamed silently into its feathers.

That night, Abigail cried herself to sleep.

* * *

><p>Doug woke up in the hospital. He began to sit up, confused, when a sharp pain erupted in his head. Doug fell back down and groaned. What was going on? His eyes darted around the room.<p>

It was a small room. White walls, white floor, white bed sheets, white curtains. Everything was white. It was disgustingly bright. Even the couch that Aimee as sleeping on next to the window was white. Doug frowned at this. Where was Abigail? Did they not find her in the Phantom's lair? Perhaps she was somewhere around the hospital being treated. The thought soothed him, allowing himself to focus on Aimee for a moment.

She seemed exhausted. Her hair was a messed, the braids she had were slowly becoming undone. Dark bags could be seen under her eyes, dirt surrounded her body. Admittedly, she looked like shit. Doug probably looked worse he realized. He suddenly remembered something.

Doug looked down to his hand. It was heavily bandaged with, who knew, white bandages. He could just make out a small amount of blood that managed to bleed through the several thick layers. Doug used his other hand to rub his face. He found a few stitches, a bruise, and nothing but pain on his face. He groaned again, this time a little louder.

Aimee stirred. Doug cursed at himself to waking her, but watched as she slowly opened her eyes. Aimee sat up, cracked her back, and moaned as she got up and stood next to him. It took her a moment to realized he was awake. Aimee knelt down to him, sadness in her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" she said softly, rubbing his arm.

"Like shit. Where is Abigail?"

A pained expression crossed Aimee's face. She sighed, and stared at his chest, "We… We didn't get her, Doug. She's still there."

Realization rushed through Doug. They gave up on her… Abigail, who had trusted them… Aimee had gave up and brought him to the hospital.

"You… left her there."

"No, the Phantom almost killed us."

"We abandoned her."

"No, Doug, it wasn't our fault!"

"Yes, it is. We failed."

Aimee began to cry a little bit.

"She trusted us." Doug said, defeated, "We were supposed to rescue her."

"It's not our fault. We tried so hard." Aimee cried, clinging onto Doug's arm.

"I knew this would happen. Who were we to think we could get her. We are just two people against a god. Fuck, how long has he been alive to practice whatever that thing is. We can't beat him… We… Its useless."

Doug put a hand over his eyes in shame. He shook his head, unable to speak further. Aimee rested her head on his arm, unsure of what to do. The two stayed there till morning, unable to move out of their defeated state.

They were dead.

* * *

><p>Erik sat at his organ in silence.<p>

He thought. He considered. He prayed.

His hands hovered over the keys, before coming down slowly. Erik sang, letting the air take his emotion out of his soul and letting it fly around the lair.

_I gave you my music; I made your song take wing._

_And now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me._

_I was bound to love you, when I heard you play._

_Abigail, Abigail… _

Erik began to sob, letting the music die as his hands stopped. He placed his face in his hands, silently crying into them. He was such a fool. All he wanted was for Abigail to forgive him; he couldn't bear to have her mad at him. Erik felt as though she would never forgive him. He had to make her see that he did only what was best for her, that those two did not deserve to be her family. Only he could protect her from people like them, he knew it.

Abigail had to understand. The world was evil; she could not see this. Erik did not care how long it would take. He would keep her with him until the day she died, determined to make her understand. The only thing you could do was to avoid the world, let them battle themselves.

Erik began to fantasize of the day when Abigail would finally understand. He knew that when that day came, Abigail and he would finally be at peace with each other. They would play their music every day, forgetting about the world outside of their protective little island. He would make it work. Erik knew it.

Somehow, he would make Abigail see just how much he care about her.

Or, maybe even love her? The thought scared Erik a bit; however, it also brought joy. Love? He had not felt love in a very, very long time.

He suddenly understood what he had to do in order for Abigail to understand.

Erik had to explain everything to her. In order for her to love him, she had to know him. In order for her to trust him, she had to realize what he had gone through.

Erik needed Abigail to understand how dead he really was before she could understand how alive she made him feel.

* * *

><p><strong>AHHhhhHhhHhhh ideas for next chapter are at my fingertips... :D<strong>

**And I'm sorry for such long wait, believe me I know how annoying it is to wait so long for chapters, but I have sooo much shit going on. I literally got back to my house at 1:30 in the morning, woke up today, finished the chapter, and now I am updating. Lol. **

**Review guys! Tell me what you thiiiiiink! I love all of my reviews, no matter what they say. This basically gives you a free pass to totally flame me, and yet I'll still love you. Opinions are more than welcome.**

**I promise promise promise I'll try super duper hard to get the next chapter out by Thursday. No promises though! **


	9. Blind Love

**Hey everyone! Sorry, I meant to put this out Thursday, but then shit happened, and on Friday I ended up waking up reeeeeeeeeaaalllly late :3. So, yeah, I am finishing this as my ride is about to get here in like... Five minutes? Not even, lmao. This is how much I love you guys!**

**PhantomFan01: Erik does understand her! They both have been through a lot, as you will see in this chapter!**

**TheIdesofMarch: Awesome possum? Ahahahahahaa that is a new favorite line for me! And do no deny the powers of cookies as a tool of forgiveness! :D**

**PanicAtTheExpress: Ugh, I GUESS I can be your friend... :P And yes, I started writing right after I read it! And yeah, I hope to bring the story back to a more... positive light haha. Things have been pretty depressing for my poor characters lately. **

**XxnikigirlxX: Here it is :D I hope you like it!**

**cHCkrdFlatZ: First of all, it was hell copying your name. Second, COOKIES! NOM NOM NOM.**

**amysmiles: FIND OUT! QUICK! Read! :P**

**ReadDeathLvr: She may... OR WILL SHE? DUN Dun dunnnnn...**

* * *

><p><em>Tell me your secrets, darling.<em>

_Share with me your soul, and I shall give you mine._

_Hold me, trust me, feel me. Believe me._

_I wish to know you, to understand you._

_Please... Help me. I need you. I want you._

_I miss you._

_Let us go back to how we used to be; before the pain, the suffering... I want us to be happy again. _

_Do not turn from me, little one. Come to me; let me hide you from your fears, from your shame, from your anger._

_Let me be your friend again._

Erik paced back and forth, his mind flying. How could he explain so many things to Abigail? She would never understand him. How could she? Abigail could not even see him, how could he expect her to understand what he had to tell her without an image to go along with it? But, Erik had to try. It was his only hope to ever get her to think of him the same way again.

He glanced over to the swan bed. Abigail had not moved for almost ten hours. She had to get up eventually, Erik decided. For now, he would plan his first move.

He couldn't be too abrupt. He had to ease his way into the conversation. If he came out to suddenly, Erik feared that Abigail would be horrified and try to flee. Perhaps she would leave anyway even after he told her, opened himself to her, exposed himself. Erik shuddered at the thought. He didn't want to believe that was a possibility.

Erik collapsed in a chair near the table. He frowned, glancing over the spilt cereal. Abigail was not a messy person. In fact, everything about her was perfectly planned and organized. Seeing her food sprayed about bothered him to no end. Erik quickly cleaned up the mess, trying not to think too hard on the manner.

A noise came from the swan bed. Erik whipped around and saw Abigail slowly rise from the sheets. After a _crack_ from her back, Abigail got up, carefully selected some clothes from the wardrobe, walked over to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her. Erik flew to the door. He leaned against the wood, hands and ear pressed against its cool surface, listening intently.

Erik strained his ears as he heard Abigail moving about. He heard her turn on the shower before she brushed her teeth; after a moment of silence, he heard the shower curtain pull back, and then just water. Erik stepped back from the door, disappointed. He had expected something a bit more enlightening.

A bit of shame shot through him as he trudged over to his organ. He had stooped down to the level of practically stalking Abigail rather than just talking to her. It wasn't his fault, though. He hadn't got the opportunity to speak with her yet. Right? Of course. For now, he would work a bit. But on what?

Erik flipped through pages upon pages of music sheets. Eventually, he came to one labeled "_Mon Ange Tombé". __Erik smiled to himself as he laid it out in front of him, grabbed his pen, and began to continue the song. _

It was only three and a half pages at the moment; Erik had no idea how long it would actually become. For now, he was content with simply continuing the tale he told through the song. Erik hummed to himself, occasionally pressing a few notes here or there to listen to the sound as he scribbled the notes down, occasionally scratching them and replacing them with others. He refrained from playing anything more than that, however, he did not want Abigail to hear it. The song would be his gift to her one of these days. Erik had planned on having them play it together after a few days, but now that he realized what the song had become, he was thankful Abigail had refused to do so at the time.

But first, Erik had to teach her the organ.

A minor setback.

The shower stopped. Erik froze mid-note, head perking up, waiting for a sign. The sink began to run.

What was he to do when she got out of the bathroom? What would he say? Erik began to panic. How do people deal with these situations? He had to admit, his social etiquette was quite rusty. After turning around, Erik glanced over the room. His eyes rested on the table. Perhaps he should make her a meal? How much time did he have? Why did he not think of this sooner?

Erik scrambled out of his seat and rushed over to the food. All that was there was some oddly named boxes that Abigail called cereal, apples, a few bananas, a gallon of water, some peanut butter, and half a loaf of bread.

What did you make out of that?

Erik was no chef. Hell, he hardly ate. He didn't need to, he was never particularly hungry for some reason.

Some shuffling came from the bathroom.

Erik panicked. He grabbed a slice of bread and slapped some peanut butter on it. After pouring some water in a cup (half of it spilt on the table), he grabbed a banana (squishing it in his grip) and slammed it next to the pitiful bread just as Abigail came out of the shower. He whirled around, thinking he was caught, before he remembered she couldn't see him.

Abigail marched through the door; she had not forgotten what had happened in the slightest. Erik winced as she stormed over to the table. He backed away as she sat down, scooted the seat closer to the food, and put an elbow in the peanut butter.

"What the?" Abigail cried, grabbed her shoulder. She grabbed at the odd substance, sniffed it and groaned, "Erik? Why is there peanut butter on the table?"

"I… Made you something to eat." He replied, not positive that it was the best of ideas anymore.

Abigail sighed, wiped the peanut butter off of her elbow, and stared at the table. None of them moved for a moment.

"I—"

"You—"

They both stopped talking as the other spoke. Erik watched as Abigail's face burned red. It almost made him laugh; but then he remembered why they were in the situation. He coughed.

"Abigail. We must talk."

"I don't want to talk."

"Then what do you plan on doing?" he replied, agitated.

"Nothing."

"That is exactly what will lead you to madness."

"Yes," she replied, rolling her eyes, "because you are the master of sanity."

Erik growled, "I know what it is like to be on the brink of it. I also know what it is like to come back from it."

"I don't care."

"I need you to understand me." Erik pleaded, walking closer to her, "I beg of you, Abigail. Just listen. You don't need to believe me or care. Just… comprehend."

Abigail's face turned towards him. Somehow, her dead eyes stared straight into him. She nodded. Erik shivered, but took a seat next to her.

He thought for a moment. Erik didn't know where to begin…

"I supposed I should start with the truth. What you have heard of me, in plays and movies and books, is true… To an extent. Of course I did most of those things… I killed, threatened, and stole. This Opera House was my home; is my home. I did in fact become… infatuated… with the girl Christine." Erik paused for a moment as her name escaped his lips. He had not uttered the word or thought of Christine for what seemed like a hundred years. Erik had not let himself think of her; it brought only pain and anger. Abigail coughed as he forgot to continue with the tale, "Yes… Yes. Christine. I did most of what was described. I did not, however, create such a terrible mess the last night that I saw her and her fiancée. That was mostly the escaping crowd knocking things over and being the brutes that they were."

"They were running for their lives, they-"

"Were in no danger of me. I had no need to harm them."

"You cut down the chandelier and let it fall onto the crowd."

"It was a distraction!" Erik yelled, throwing his hands in the air. Embarrassed, he quickly regained his composure with a few deep breaths, "As I was saying… The night that Christine abandoned me. I let them go… But nobody came after me. Why do you think I am still here to this day? Nobody knew where to go other than that rat faced, ugly little… Ahem… Her fiancée, Christine, and Madame Giry; she would never have dared to let out my secret to anyone else, however. Her life depended on it's secrecy."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Abigail asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Erik bowed his head, clutching his hair; it took all of his strength to spit out, "Because I believe I need to destroy my image to you before I can hope rebuild the only positive relationship I have had since Christine. And even that was self destructive."

Abigail was silent, so he continued.

"After they left, I was in shambles. Everything was ugly compared to her. I destroyed everything; mirrors, the bed, all of my work… Gone. I did not care any long, nothing mattered after I lost Christine. I went possibly even more insane than I already was. For days I did nothing, I would simply destroy. Once everything in my home was gone, I went up to the Opera House and continued my horror upstairs. I went on for days. Finally, bruised, bloody and defeated, I returned to my lair down here. I was weak with fatigue and hunger, but did not care. After taking a look around at what I had done, I took off my mask and simply stared at it. Then, seemingly without my control, I began to smash my face into it. The mask shattered. I went around the island, hitting my face against anything I could find, trying to destroy the last piece of ugliness that I could find; myself. After that, everything was black."

"You passed out?"

"No. I don't think so. I believe that I died."

"How can you be alive now then?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Erik replied honestly, "I remember… I remember…"

_Erik opened his eyes to a field of fire. _

_He stood up. He was in a large, open land; almost every inch of it was burning. Erik heard screams of pain all around him, but saw nobody. He frowned. What was this place? _

_A yell came from behind him. He swung around only to find nobody there. A small twinge of fear shot through his head. What was he to do? Erik began to walk forward. When he checked to see if anyone was following him, Erik noticed that flames erupted in his wake. Every step he took, flames shot out of the ground. Confusion consumed him._

_Erik moved on._

_He eventually found a small dirt path. After following it for a bit, Erik saw a small house up ahead. He quickened his step. Upon reaching the house, he knocked on the door. Erik heard shuffling inside, and then a small peep hole appeared. _

_"Who are you?" came a cautious voice._

_Suddenly, Erik realized he had no idea who he was. Who was he? How did he get here?_

_"I… I am not so sure." Erik responded, rubbing his head._

_"Get out of here, you rat bastard! I'm not the welcoming committee! Fucking retarded." And the peep hole slammed shut._

_Anger erupted inside of Erik. Who was this person to speak to him in such a way? Erik slammed his fist against the door before hissing a response._

_"If you do not explain to me right now what is going on, I believe we will have a very big problem."_

_"Oh, shove off, you lunatic, before I call the Guardian!"_

_"Where am I? Who is the Guardian?"_

_"I warned you!"_

_Suddenly, a horn blew from within the house. Erik froze. He didn't like the sound of it. Erik decided that he should probably leave before this Guardian thing showed up._

_With a swish of his cape (he wasn't so sure why he swished it so naturally) he stormed off, leaving a path of fire. _

_The sky went red. Clouds disappeared. A large fiery figure began to form directly in front of his. It grew larger and larger until Erik had to strain his neck to look up at it. Horns developed, wings sprouted, and before he realized it, a devilish red creature stood almost nine feet tall in front of his. _

_Erik couldn't move._

_As the last bit of tail formed, the creature opened its eyes. Fire came out of his eye sockets and mouth. The thing stared at Erik, and with a booming laugh, it said, _

_"Ahahaha! A newcomer! Welcome, welcome to my little realm!" it said, it's voice a thousand woman's screams. _

_Erik simply stared at it._

_"So shy are we? Ah, but you were not shy in life now were you, Mr. Phantom? But you remember none of this of course. Those who destroy themselves never do."_

_"What are you talking about?" Erik replied, suddenly confident._

_"He speaks! Amazing. Your name is Erik, is it not?"_

_Erik nodded._

_"Welcome, Erik, to hell."_

_Erik looked around. It defiantly was not what he pictured hell to be like. Why was he here? What had he done?_

_"You are wondering what you have done to deserve all of this? Well, I can guarantee it was something terrible! You walk with fire. Only the top dogs have fire coming out of them, I assure you!"_

_Erik looked down at the creature's own feet. Much larger flames came from him, but he still walked in fire as well._

_"What did I do?"_

_"You killed many innocent people."_

_"Why?"_

_"At first, because you hated life. And then, over a woman." The creature chuckled, "Quite the romance!"_

_Anger grew within Erik. Who was this creature to mock him so?_

_The thing stopped laughing, "Yes… yes. You are quite special, Erik. I have foreseen your arrival for a thousand years now, and let me tell you, nothing but stress with come with it for me. Only recently have I finally come up with a solution. You will not stay here. Oh, no, you shall not remain in my kingdom and cause havoc! You will return to the world of the living, but you shall not be truly alive, my friend. It is a fine punishment for what you have done, I believe."_

_"I do not even know what I have done!"_

_"No need. It would take far too long. All you must know is you shall live in anguish and pain for what you have done. Enjoy your life, Erik, as best you can… Ahaha!"_

_And all went black. _

_Erik slowly opened his eyes. _

_He was in his lair, on his back, surrounded by glass. He slowly got up, looking around at the destruction._

_Erik thought over what had just happened. He picked up a large chunk of mirror, looking at himself. _

_He was exactly the same. It was almost as if he had never gone on his rampage. A sense of defeat consumed him. Gritting his teeth, he slashed the shard across his wrist. Blood gushed out. He felt no pain. _

_The wound closed before his eyes. _

_"Did you really think you could get out of it that quickly?" came the same screaming voice, "There is only one way to end your everlasting life. I'll let you figure it out on your own." _

Erik watched Abigail as he finished the tale. She simply stared at the ground, arms still folded around herself.

"So you're dead." She stated bluntly, not moving.

"No." he said quickly, "I am alive… I just can't die. I do not age or feel hunger or the need to sleep."

"But you died?"

"I believe so."

"Why did the devil let you live?"

"I don't know if it was _the_ devil. I don't even know if it wasn't just some weird hallucination."

"But you're still alive, so it obviously wasn't."

"I don't know, Abigail!" Erik yelled, "I'm just trying to make you understand what I've gone through! I have been down here in this dump for hundreds of years! I hardly went outside!"

"Why didn't you?"

"The world is a cruel, evil place."

"You don't know that. The world has changed since you were a part of it, Erik."

"I don't need to know anything more than what I have seen, and how I have been treated."

Abigail's blind eyes looked up at him. She shook her head sadly, "I can't believe you. You just don't understand anything, and you don't even care."

"I care about many things. The world is not one of them."

"What _do_ you care about, Erik?" Abigail huffed.

"_You_."

Abigail threw her hands into the air, "Why? Why do you care about me?"

"Because you are the one thing that has brought me out of my insanity; you and your music tore me from anger and hate, and showed me what it was like to have a friend again, to enjoy someone else again, to _love_ someone again."

Abigail shook her head, "But you hated me at first."

Erik stood up from his chair and knelt next to her. He did not dare touch her as he spoke, "I did. I didn't understand why you intrigued me, why I desperately wanted you here. I hated how much you controlled me when I didn't even know it. You were so perfect to me; I hated you for making me want to reach out to you. I did not want to be hurt again, so much so that I wanted to hurt you. And now that I have, I am so regretful that I cannot bear myself." Tears began to form in his eyes, "Abigail, I am just so sorry for what I have put you through. I never wanted any of this to happen. There was a time where I wished that I had just killed you to avoid having to deal with you. Now, I wish that I had never taken you when I first heard you play so that you could have avoided all of this."

Abigail was still. She drew her legs up to her, curled in a ball on the seat. She did not speak. Sadness was pouring out of Erik. He had not been so emotional since Christine had left him, and it was nothing like this.

"Abigail…" he whispered, touching her leg gently, "You have changed me in so many ways. I feel you within me, your kindness and your bright personality. Your attitude has rubbed off on me and transformed me. I was a beast before I met you, and now, I like to think that I am something more. I was missing something, but now I know I was missing _someone_. I was missing _you_, Abigail."

Abigail looked up at him, tears flowing down her own face.

"But… Now I see much more clearly." Erik choked, staring into her dead eyes, "That I do not deserve you. You have gone through pain in these past few weeks, and it was because of me. You cannot see the atrocity that I am, the horror that people see when they look upon me…" he cried, gently brushing away her tears, "You are just… So…"

Erik burst out in tears. His sobs echoed off of the walls of the underground lair for the first time since Christine had destroyed him. Erik drew back from Abigail, ashamed and embarrassed. He turned from her, walking towards his organ in defeat. She would never stay with him.

* * *

><p>Abigail sat frozen in her seat as Erik walk away. She listened as his sobs grew; pain shot through her as each one drifted towards her.<p>

Abigail contemplated what had just happened. Erik was immortal? He had died, and the evil had sent him away out of fear of him rampaging through hell. For some reason this made sense to her; Abigail could picture The Phantom of the Opera taking over hell in a fortnight, forcing everyone to perform his operas. The thought made her want to laugh, but she couldn't summon any happiness from within her.

Erik had just opened himself to her. He had laid everything on the table in order to win her forgiveness.

Abigail then realized she had already forgiven Erik a long time ago. He had done it to protect her from an evil he had created in his mind. Abigail knew he could have easily killed Aimee and Doug, but didn't purely because they were her friends. This, Abigail could not thank Erik enough for.

Even though everything was his fault.

However, Abigail did not like the Phantom as much as he did to her. Sure, she had considered him her friend since they had first met (or he had first captured her), but the thought of something more had never really crossed her mind. It was amazing she thought of him something besides a snatcher or lunatic, Abigail realized. But was she really staying here now because the Phantom refused to let her go? He did after all say that he did not deserve her… What did that mean?

Now that Abigail thought about it, she realized how subtlety Erik had been falling for her, all of it leading up to their dance not even a day ago. They had been so close; she felt at peace there. Did she want to like him more?

No. Not after what he had done.

At least not for now.

Abigail rubbed her eyes. She had gone through hell and back, and then back again all in less than a month. Why was her life so bipolar? A few sobs broke through her thoughts. She perked up, listening more intently.

Erik was crying. It made her uncomfortable and afraid. The fact that Erik was broken enough to let tears escape him audibly was enough to tell her that he was severely wounded. Perhaps she should do something. But what? Abigail wanted to reach out to him as he had done to her. She wanted him to trust her too as he wanted her to trust him.

Maybe they could trust each other.

But why would she want to trust the man who had put her through hell?

Because he had gone through hell too; literally. Erik did not deserve the life that he had been given, Abigail realized. He was doing the best that he could. Maybe she could help him.

Abigail nervously rose from the chair.

They both were hurt right now. Perhaps helping each other was the only cure. Two wounded animals, coming together to form peace.

She walked towards the sobs.

Abigail felt compassion and pity for Erik. She felt as if he had formed his opinions based on what he saw. Maybe she could help him see something beyond an evil world; maybe she could help him see the light.

She sensed his presence. Abigail placed a hand on his back. She felt Erik jump, but stayed where he was. He was warm; a hiccup forced him to jump slightly every so often. Abigail frowned at the sight, or what she imagined it to be.

"Erik."

No response.

"I want to share something with you too." Abigail said. Erik's sobs died. He turned around, and she let her hand drop to her side.

"…What?" Erik questioned.

"You shared something with me, and I trust you, Erik. I believe you. I want you to trust me too."

"Of course." Erik responded. She heard him sit down on the organ's seat.

Abigail sat next to him. She folded her hands across her knees, and let out a sigh.

"I never told anyone this besides Aimee and Doug." She said quickly, "I just thought, well, you should know since you're sort of like, you know… Oh, I don't know. I just want you to know."

"What are you telling me?" Erik asked sincerely.

"Just listen."

"Of course."

Abigail took a deep breath, "Well, I guess you can say I never really had the best of lives. My parents had me by accident; they never wanted kids. In fact, the idea of children horrified them beyond belief. They didn't know they were having me until it was too late; they tried to raise me, but I guess they just hated it so much, they gave up. When I was around two, I think, they stopped watching me as much. They would leave me home by myself a lot. I had to raise myself."

"After awhile, they forgot to feed me on some days. I remember thinking to myself that I should figure out how to cook for myself when I was about three. So one day, when they were gone, and I was practically starving, I found some chicken nuggets in the freezer. I remember thinking to myself that I should turn on a flame and cook them. So I grabbed a chair, flipped on the gas stove, and threw some chicken nuggets into the flames. I remember staring at the fire… It's one of the last things I remember seeing."

"What happened?" Erik asked, confused.

"Well, it was an open flame. The chicken caught on fire, and I didn't know what to do, so I just watched. All I remember is fire from there; large flames, consuming and devouring everything. I remember burning, and then opening my eyes and I saw a giant white light. When I closed them again… All I saw was darkness. I never saw anything every again. The doctors said that my eyes burned to the point of no repair. I think I was lucky that they healed to this point." She said, pointing to her dead eyes, "I mean, Aimee has told me they just look… Misty."

She felt Erik take her chin, turning her chin to face him.

Abigail sniffed, "After that, my parents hated me. Apparently the fire tore down half of the house. We had to move. They did nothing to help me with my disability after that. They refused to tell me where things were; that's how I learned to map things out for myself. It was hard at first. I was so used to relying on my sight to guide me, now I had to use all of my senses. After awhile I could tell my hearing had improved. It was almost as if my body was helping me adapt to my new lifestyle."

"When I was six, I accidently tripped over a chair. I grabbed at something, which just happened to be the table cloth. All of the china on the table was destroyed. The next day, I ran into my mother when she was carrying her coffee. It burned her entire front side. The day after that, I stepped on the puppy they had gotten a few months before hand. I crushed his spine. It died. That day, they sent me to live with my Aunt. That was the last time I heard of my parents."

"When I graduated high school, my Aunt sent me to live here. Well, not here, outside of the Opera House in a small apartment. She paid for it and has been for the past few years. I made a small amount of money played for different clubs on the piano but never really had a chance to go professionally."

"When did you meet your friends?" Erik asked.

"I met Doug when I was about ten years old, I think. He found me when I was playing the piano. We became really close; both of us didn't have real parents, and we had been through a lot. He helped me through a lot of hard times, and I helped him through a lot too. I met Aimee when I graduated and moved to the apartment. We were both shopping at a grocery store that I went to a lot. I was wandering aimlessly when she found me, introduced me to the manager, and we kept in contact."

"I see." Erik said slowly, "And Aimee acts?..."

"Yes, she's an actress, singer, whatever you want to call it." Abigail replied, "She was trying out for a new role before you took me. The play was going to be The Phantom of the Opera, believe it or not."

"Really? I do believe that the play will be done here."

"What?"

"The play you speak of. I overheard renovators saying that the first performance that will be done on the Opera House's opening day would be The Phantom of the Opera."

Abigail's eyes widened. She didn't know if Aimee had even gotten the part. If she did… Would she try to see her again? Maybe Erik would let her listen to the play if anything.

Abigail felt Erik take her hand, "Abigail… I am happy you shared your story with me."

She nodded stiffly, "I wanted to."

After a moment, Erik released her hand. Abigail pulled it back from him.

"Well… I'm a bit, um, tired." Abigail said awkwardly, even though she had just woken up from sleeping. All she wanted to do now was to get away from Erik.

"Very well." Came his ominous voice.

And with that, Abigail made her way to the swan bed, collapsed into it's comforting silk, and groaned.

_Oh, life._

* * *

><p><strong>MY RIDE IS HERE SO ILL QUICKLY SAY THAT I HAVE STARTED PUTTING MY EXPECTED UPDATES ON MY PROFILEAT THE VERY END SO I HOPE YOU LIKED THE CHAPTER SO BYE LOVE YOU ALL!<strong>

**Edit: Sorry guys, for some reason I was looking back on this chapter and I noticed that words were italicized for some reason before they were supposed to! I don't know if this will send an alert out or whatever but sorry, no new chapter just yet... I am working on it though! Expected update times will be on my profile!**


	10. Twilight's Beast

_****_**HELLO! I know I said that this would be updated Sunday, but I expected this to be a little longer, and I didn't expect to have no weekend available for writing. So, here is a little bit shorter chapter a little bit earlier than expected! I hope you like it!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTER ERIK, NOR DO I OWN ANY OF THE SONGS THAT I USE IN THIS ENTIRE STORY**

**PhantomFan01: I know, Abigail kind of got screwed over in the last few chapters ): But I hope you like this one better! Its a bit happier for Abigail :D**

**cHCkrdFLatZ: Thank you! I can't believe I made you cry haha! And Erik can feel pain, but he basically regenerates himself (speed based on how serious the injury). God, I keep forgetting what I write, but I'm pretty sure I wrote that when he cut himself it basically just sealed right back up. That's because it would have killed him, so he healed it on the spot.**

**RedDeathLvr: I know! What a wonderful author to plan such a happy couple... Teehee!**

**12sapphire13: Only if you keep commenting. Just you. Every chapter. o.o**

**goodie58: Thank you! I'm glad you started you read, new readers make me happy!**

**PanicAtTheExpress: OKAY. I guess BEST friends... I've never read the Hunger Games, but I actually have been planning on it. I can't believe that you think my story can be compared to an actual novel though, that's pretty cool! And so many people got emotional over the last chapter I can't believe it! Haha**

**SammiRichGurl: I'm glad I got a reaction out of you, that is what I want to do and hope to do with my writing! And Abigail has not yet fallen for Erik, but just read this chapter and you will see what happens! I'm sure you'll like it.**

**Phantoms Lil Waffle: First of all, I love your name. Second, thanks! I really couldn't think of anything else. All other options were to out of the blue haha!**

**AngelofMusic1: Thank you for reviewing! I love this story too :P**

**Maxine I love Erik: Two reviews? I feel special :D I LOVE COOKIES. AHHH. And don't faint, you can't read then D: **

* * *

><p><em><strong>Night has always pushed up day; You must know life to see decay<strong>__. But I won't rot, I won't rot. Not this mind and not this heart, _

_**I won't rot**__…_

_And there will come a time, You'll see, with no more tears. __**And love will not break your heart, But dismiss your fears.**_

_**Get over the hill**__ and see What you find there, With grace in your heart And flowers in your hair. And now I cling to what I knew. __**I saw exactly what was true. But oh no more**__. That's why I hold, __**That's why I hold with all I have**__. That's why I hold._

_**And I will die alone**_

_And be left there._

_Well I guess I'll just go home, Oh God knows where. Because __**death is just so full**__ And man so small_

_**Well I'm scared of what's behind And what's before.**_

_**And there will come a time, You'll see, with no more tears**__. And love will not break your heart, But dismiss your fears._

_Get over the hill and see What you find there,_

_**With grace in your heart**_

_**And flowers in your hair.**_

_After the Storm _by Mumford and Sons

Doug woke up with a jolt. His eyes snapped open, revealing the snow white room around him.

"Good morning." Came a soft voice from the side. Doug looked over to see Aimee stretching from the couch. She put her hair in a high pony tail, slowly got off the white sofa, and knelt down next to him, "You want me to see if I can get you some breakfast?"

Doug nodded slowly, unable to speak. Aimee nodded sadly and went off.

The moment she left, Doug sat up. He rubbed his weary eyes, trying to banish the blinding light from his mind. Everything was so… pure. Not a speck of dirt could be found. It bothered him how much it reminded him of Abigail; her spotless, well-kept house was probably the cleanest in all of France. Doug's eyes wandered to the window. It was a clear day. A slight breeze would cause the tree's leaves to ruffle gently. A large oak was planted directly outside of his room. It dominated his view, almost obscuring it.

The old oak stood tall and grand; the tree almost loomed over Doug it seemed. Whenever he looked away from it, the tree seemed to get closer to him. But, whenever he looked back, the oak would be in the same spot. Doug could tell that it had been there for several hundred years. It's worn down bark and fading leaves told him that it was slowly dying. This brought neither joy nor sadness to Doug.

A soft knock came from the doorway.

Doug moved his eyes toward the sound. Aimee stood holding a small tray of food; a small smile played upon her lips.

"I got some cereal. The nurse said they were releasing you this afternoon." She said gliding over to him. Aimee placed the tray on Doug's lap. He nodded in thanks, using his only functional hand to pick up the spoon and force the wheat flakes down his throat.

Doug noticed Aimee watching him out of the corner of his eye. He looked up at her, confused.

Aimee sighed, "Are you alright?"

Doug nodded.

"Will you say something?"

"I don't know what to say." He croaked.

Aimee offered him another tiny smile, "Well, that's a start. You sure had a lot to say last night."

"Yeah."

More cereal was shoved down his throat.

"Well," Aimee said with a shrug, "I guess I'll drive you home when we get out of here. I brought my car over when you were sleeping. I'm sure your grandmother is wondering where you are; she'll take good care of you."

"Yeah…"

At about one in the afternoon, after the nurse reviewed his charts, examined his hand, and Doug was released.

Doug let Aimee lead him to her car. She drove him home; the ride was done in silence. All that could be heard was the small _vroom_ of her accelerator, and the small _bumps_ from her tires against the road. Doug stared out the window during the trip.

They eventually pulled into his driveway. Doug unbuckled, opened the car, and met Aimee who was already standing at his door. She rang the bell. It took a few moments for his grandmother to open the entrance to the house.

"Hello? Is that you, Douglas?" came her weary voice.

"Yes, Grandmother." He replied, stepping inside. Aimee followed.

"Oh, Doug! What happened to your hand?" she yelled, her wrinkly hands grabbing his bandaged one. Doug hissed in pain. He pulled his limb free from his grandmother's clutch.

"Nothing, Grandma. I fell yesterday."

"Oh, where have you been, Doug! I have been oh so worried…"

She hadn't noticed Aimee yet.

"Doug was helping me with my audition." Aimee said, stepping in quickly, "We were practicing a dance move and he fell and broke some glass."

"Oh, you are so clumsy, Douglas!" she cried, waddling into the kitchen. Doug watched his grandmother, adorned in a bright pink old-lady dress with slight amusement. She came back out with some freshly baked cookies, offering the plate to Aimee with a giant smile, "Cookies, dear?"

Aimee smiled and took one. She did not eat it.

"How did the audition go, dear?" Doug's grandmother asked, placing the tray on the coffee table.

"I… I actually don't know if I got the role or not! I haven't had the chance to check my phone…" Aimee cried, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her cell phone.

Doug watched her as she flipped the phone open, stuck the cookie in her mouth, and began to read over the message. Her eyes widened more and more. Giving up waiting on her to read it out loud, Doug walked behind her and read over her shoulder.

_ Hey Aimee! So, I just spoke with the judges…. And, guess what? YOU GOT CHRISTINE'S PART! Ahhh! I'm so happy for you! They said you had an excellent voice and could tell you were the only one in the entire audition who could handle her role. Wow! _

_ Rehearsals start on Monday, and they will be every other day from 3-9, no weekends. BE THERE! You can't miss these, girl! And I haven't even told you the best part yet…_

_ The play will be performed at the Opera House on opening night! That's in only a month and a half! Isn't that so great? The Phantom of the Opera will be the first play performed at the Phantom's own house! Hahaha! The show is already sold out, Aimee! Renovations will be completed this week, and we will start to practice on the ACTUAL stage in about two weeks! _

_ DO NOT FORGET! SO PROUD OF YOU._

"Oh my god." Doug breathed.

"Must be good news!" cried the old woman, popping a cookie in her own mouth with a giggle.

Aimee and Doug looked at each other, eyes wide. Would she really be going back to where Abigail was in less than a month? A better question popped into his mind.

"Grandma, what's today?"

"It's a Monday, hun!" she cried, shoving another cookie in her mouth.

Doug glanced at the time on Aimee's phone. It was ten minutes to three.

"Uh, Aimee? Your rehearsal starts in ten minutes." Doug pointed out.

Aimee looked down at the text message, spat the cookie out of her mouth with a gasp, and bolted out the door. Doug shook his head, wanting to laugh, but couldn't summon enough happiness to emit a sound of joy.

He sighed instead, slowly making his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * *

><p>Abigail winced as the wardrobe made a small <em>creak<em> as she opened it. She froze, listening for any sign of movement. After a moment of silence, Abigail grabbed a white dress and a pair of black flats.

She slowly crept off of the platform the swan bed resided on. Abigail felt as if she was sneaking into a bank, or perhaps plotting to steal from a rich man's house. The thought almost made her giggle, until a large hand grabbed her shoulder.

Abigail screamed, almost falling over.

"Why are you sneaking around the place like a lunatic?" Erik asked, bewildered.

Abigail shook his hand off of her, "Nothing!" she lied. This was exactly what Abigail had been trying to avoid: confrontation, "I'm going to go take a shower now if you don't mind."

"Very well."

Abigail darted off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her a little bit harder than she intended. She leaned against the door for a moment, eyes shut, letting out a long breath.

Abigail had a lot to think about. She pulled at her hair, trying to make her brain think of some kind of solution to an unknown problem. What was the problem? Was there one? Abigail pushed herself off of the door, walked over to the shower, and turned it on.

There was definitely some wrong with her and Erik's situation. He had such a negative attitude, and it bothered her. He had seen so much hate and loathing when had seen the world, that now, it was all he knew the world to be.

Abigail stripped off her clothes and jumped into the warm water.

She had to find a way to show Erik that people have changed. When he was young, she contemplated, it had been what, the 18th century? It was no wonder that Erik believed people to be brutes; everyone had been allowed to do horrid things, actions that you would be killed for today. A free for all world had transformed into one of rule and order. Abigail had felt quite safe when she lived outside of the protective Opera House. People were kind and gentle to her, for the most part.

Abigail felt shampoo running down her face and into her eyes. She ignored it; Abigail felt no pain. Continuing on with her shower, Abigail shampooed and conditioned her hair, scrubbed her body down with a fruity body wash (she did not know the name), and stood there. With nothing else to do, she simply stood there as she let the water rush around her, slam onto her head, run down the back of her neck, slip across her back, down her leg, and disappear from her senses. Abigail shivered in delight. It felt wonderful having warmth surround her in the darkness.

She stood there until the water went cold.

And then she stood in the chilly darkness.

A knock came at the door, "Abigail?" Erik called over the water.

"Yeah?" she yelled.

"Are you alright? You have been in there for quite awhile."

"I'll be out in a minute." Abigail replied, already shutting off the water. And with that, Erik's voice drew her back into reality, away from the cold night.

She wanted to do the same to him. Abigail knew that with her words and her music, she could draw Erik back into reality. She would bring him up to speed with things; he had missed quite a lot. If he did not go out as much as he told her, Abigail had quite a lot of work ahead of her.

Abigail quickly dried herself, slipped on the dress and shoes, did her hair, and went back into the Phantom's lair. She heard him moving around near the table. Walking over to it, her shoes snapped against the ground, sending a soft echo throughout the area.

She reached out, and her hand connected with the back of a chair. Abigail scooted around it, and sat down on what she believed to have been the chair.

"Ahh!" she yelled, jumping up from Erik's lap. She felt her face burn with embarrassment as Erik chuckled with amusement at her mistake.

"I know that I am quite comfortable, Abigail, but really, do give a warning next time."

"Well," she said quickly, "Uh, sorry, I didn't see you."

"Yes, that would be the case with most things." Erik responded jokingly. Abigail folded her arms over her chest and gave a huff.

"Oh, come now," Erik said, "Don't give me that face."

Abigail rolled her eyes at the night, "Whatever." She then found another chair, scooted it closer to the table, and found herself something to eat. An orange managed to make its presence known.

A couple minutes passed in content silence.

"So… How are you?..." Erik asked hesitantly.

Abigail shrugged, peeling her orange, "I suppose I'm alright. Just the silence after the storm, you know?"

"Yes, yes I do." He replied.

Some more silence. Abigail munched on a few slices.

"So, I've been wondering when you wish to begin your organ, singing, and dancing lessons." Erik said suddenly.

"What?" Abigail asked, hand paused at her mouth. She slowly lowed the piece of fruit, "Lessons?"

"Of course." She heard Erik say, almost surprised, "You didn't think that I was going to let you stay ignorant of the fine arts?"

"But I know the arts; I play piano."

"Yes, yes. That is one medium, Abigail. You must learn more."

"Why?"

"Because you will go mad if you do not do something while we are down here."

Abigail frowned. Why did they need to stay down here? It felt so gloomy.

An idea sparked in her mind.

"If you will be teaching me," Abigail declared, "then you must agree to me teaching you."

Erik laughed, the first real Abigail had heard from him, "And what will _you_ be teaching _me_, little pianist?"

"Of what you have missed for the past hundred years or so."

A moment of silence.

"Very well. I did not intend to learn more about the evils of the human race, but if you insist."

"I do."

"As you wish."

Abigail triumphantly ripped off a piece of orange and popped it in her mouth.

"You should learn to sing first." She heard Erik say as he got up, moving towards the organ, "It is probably the area that needs most attention."

Abigail glared into the dark. How blunt of him.

"Well, come here, Abigail. Your lesson is about to begin." Came Erik's mysterious voice. Abigail found herself walking over to him obediently. She plopped down next to him, still munching on the orange.

Erik grabbed the orange and threw it over his shoulder.

"No eating at the organ."

"Ugh!"

Abigail and him sat there for hours, singing back and forth to each other. She was surprised at how knowledgeable Erik was; he knew the vocal cords and music inside and out, backwards and forwards, above and below. If she had a question, he had a detailed answer, and then some. By the end of the day, Abigail found that her singing had made a significant improvement already.

"Do not get overly excited." Erik said as she heard the soft thud of the music book closing, "Everyone gets a great leap forward their first few times. It will get more difficult to improve as we continue on."

"Don't worry; my expectations are not very high."

"You doubt my teaching methods?"

"Oh, no!" Abigail said quickly, "I doubt myself."

"You will have the most beautiful voice by the time that I am finished with you." Erik said soothingly, "Now what is it you will be teaching me?"

Abigail smiled as she got up from the seat. Her legs were sore from sitting for so long. She couldn't wait to start her lessons. But where to begin?

"What time is it?" she asked quickly.

"I'm assuming somewhere around eight at night." Erik answered.

"Excellent." Abigail said quickly, "Do you have a television down here?"

"What is a television?"

Abigail's eyes widened.

Maybe this job was a little above her.

* * *

><p>Erik finally collapsed next to Abigail on the couch, "OKAY." He said, annoyed, "Which one am I using?"<p>

"Whichever one you want!" Abigail giggled.

Erik loved it when she laughed.

He snatched the first thin box thing that he saw and opened it. What he saw confused him.

"Abigail." He said, "There is some odd looking object in this case."

"That's the disc!" she said, laughing, "It's what plays the movie."

"What do I do with it?" he asked, bewildered.

Abigail rolled her eyes. She felt around for the disc, and took it out carefully, "Where is the TV?"

"TV?"

"The television!"

"It's in front of you." He said, looking over to the brand new television he had bought. They were up in the actual Opera House. Erik had found out that the only way that this television would work would be if it was plugged into something called an outlet; something that the renovators had apparently corrupted the Opera House with. Erik shrugged it off however. These little outlets, now found all over the large dressing room, allowed Abigail and him to watch the twenty movies that she made him buy as well.

Erik watched Abigail as she felt around the TV.

"You see," she said, "the television actually plays things like movies and shows and musicals for you. Anything you want to see, you can probably find it on this baby." She said patting the thin screen, "But if you have a movie…" she located a large box just below the screen, "you need to use the DVD player."

Abigail slid the thin disc into a small slit in the box. The television's black screen came to life. Erik jumped in the air, yelling as a loud noise erupted from the box. He stared wide eyed, ignoring Abigail laughs, watching as pictures moved across the screen. He had not seen anything quite like it before. The most updated that he was with new technology was what he saw on his extremely rare shopping trips, and never before did he walk into an electronic store until today.

"I can't believe you never heard of a TV! Didn't they have them when you were alive?"

"If they did," he responded, taking off his black cloak and resting it on the ground next to the couch, "I wouldn't have known anyway. I was trapped in a circus, and then locked down here for my entire life."

"Oh, right. Well, what movie did you pick?" she said as he sat down next to her. The sofa was brown and beat up. Erik assumed that this dressing room would most likely not be used. While it was large, the room was far away from the stage and in an inconvenient area.

Erik picked up the case and read off the title, "Beauty and the Beast."

"Oh I love this movie!" Abigail squealed, "It's so wonderful!"

"But you can't see it."

"I can hear it! And it sounds beautiful." She sighed as the opening music came on. Erik watched her curiously as her fingers tapped with the beat, her head moving back and forth along with the tune. She even sang along with some parts.

"Are you watching it?" she asked. Erik quickly turned his attention to the screen.

He glanced at Abigail every so often, however. Erik couldn't help it. She seemed so peaceful when she was listening to things. It made him smile to see her smile as this girl, Belle, smiled.

Erik paid attention to the movie. The moving pictures intrigued him. However, the thing he enjoyed most about it was probably the story. Or perhaps it was the fact that Belle reminded him of Abigail almost. They were both determined, stubborn, and beautiful.

Erik grew interested as the Beast was introduced. He watched intently as the Beast captured Belle, freeing her father. A small sense of déjà vu flew over him, but he brushed it off.

He laughed as the curse was discovered. Of course there had to be some reason that he wanted Belle there. Love, the only cure? But how could Belle love him? The Beast was a horrible monster and Belle was a kind, pretty little girl.

Erik grew more surprised as the movie went on to tell how Belle and the Beast actually became friends, and even started to like each other.

"Oh! My favorite song is coming up!" Abigail cheered.

_There's something sweet__  
><em>_And almost kind__  
><em>_But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined__  
><em>_But now he's dear, and so unsure__  
><em>_I wonder why I didn't see it there before_

Abigail grabbed his hand, faced him and sang along with the beast on the next part.

_**She glanced this way**__**  
><strong>__**I thought I saw**__**  
><strong>__**And when we touched she didn't shudder at my paw**_

Abigail grabbed onto his shirt at the word touched, grinning as she sang. Erik watched her as a smile grew on his face. He wanted to hold her hand back, but was afraid to.

_**No it can't be, I'll just ignore**__**  
><strong>__**But then she's never looked at me that way before**_

Erik reached up and took her chin, keeping her face staring at his. He tilted his head, listening to the next lines. Abigail stopped singing, frozen as Erik caressed her cheek.

_New and a bit alarming__  
><em>_Who'd have ever thought that this could be?__  
><em>_True that he's no Prince Charming__  
><em>_But there's something in him that I simply didn't see__._

"_Didn't see…_" Abigail sang weakly under her breath.

_Well, who'd have thought?_

_Well, bless my soul_

_Well, who'd have known?_

_Well, who indeed?_

_And who'd have guessed they'd come together on their own?_

_It's so peculiar. _

_Wait and see_

_We'll wait and see_

_A few days more__  
><em>_There may be something there that wasn't there before_

_Perhaps there's something there__  
><em>_That wasn't there before_

The song ended, but Erik did not release her. He simply stared into her dead eyes; the misty orbs stared back at him. Erik wanted to just lean in, and…

Abigail let go of his hand and shirt and turned her head away from him.

He dropped his hand, hurt and angry that he had missed his chance. He faced the screen and watched as the Beast won over the heart of his love, while he did not even share an embrace with his.

Suddenly, he hated the Beast. It had everything that he wanted; namely, their love. Belle saw the Beast as he was; a hideous and disgusting creature. And yet, she saw past it all and accepted him. Abigail on the other hand could not see Erik's horrible face. She didn't know that she now sat next to a horrible… _thing_. Shame and guilt washed over him.

Abigail scooted a bit closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling even closer. Erik began to panic. What was he supposed to do? Should he even allow this? Abigail didn't know what she was cuddling up against.

Erik settled on doing nothing.

It turned out alright. They stayed in that position for the rest of the movie. It disgusted him when the Beast transformed into a handsome man; Erik knew that would never happen to him and grew jealous.

"Oh, what a wonderful movie!" Abigail cheered, "We will watch a movie a night as a part of your lessons!"

"I do not understand what I am learning about." Erik said as Abigail got up, popping the disc out of the DVD player thingy.

"You are learning about culture! This is a Disney movie!" and she went on to explain how prominent this Disney thing was in America.

"What does America have anything to do with us?"

"Oh, America has to do with everything." Abigail said, rolling her eyes, and proceeded to explain what exactly America was.

"I don't understand why you say they are all fat and lazy." Erik asked, confused.

Abigail laughed, clutching her sides, "Oh, I didn't mean that!"

"Very well. Is your lesson for today at an end?"

"Yes, it is complete." Abigail replied. She grinned at Erik, who smiled to himself.

Her smile was heartwarming.

"How did you like the movie?" Abigail asked as they made their way to the dressing room with the passage down to their small home.

"It was… nice." Erik lied. It had been enlightening and depressing at the same time.

Erik helped Abigail into the boat, taking her arm and leading her into a seat. He grabbed the long pole and pushed them off of the land and into the water.

"Do you want to watch a different Disney movie tomorrow, or something else?"

"Whatever you want." Erik said honestly. He had no idea what else to watch. Everything was confusing to him outside of his small bubble down in the depths of the ground. However, for some reason he knew that it was Abigail's new mission to bring him into the 21st century. He feared what else had changed since he had been a part of the world.

"Well," Abigail said with a yawn, "I'll have to create the lesson plan tomorrow! I'm so tired now."

Abigail stretched out on the boat and shut her eyes. Erik chuckled as he moved the boat through the water and let her rest. As they approached the small island, Erik called to Abigail.

"Abigail, we're here."

No response.

"Abigail?" he asked, docking the boat. He leaned down to her and noticed she was asleep. He shook his head. How did one fall asleep on a hard wooden surface? This girl confused him.

Erik picked her up slowly, afraid of waking her. He hummed into her ear, hoping she was dreaming of sweet things.

Could the blind dream? Did they dream of thoughts and sounds? Erik wondered what she was dreaming of now as he placed her on the swan bed. He tucked a piece of her soft, curly hair behind her ear as he knelt down next to her. Erik desperately wanted to be closer to her, but he restrained himself. She was peaceful now, he would not try to ruin that for her.

He stroked her cheek as she slept. Erik lost track of time. Simply watching her captivated him. He counted her breaths, watched her eyes flutter each time his thumb connected with her face. It soothed him knowing she was at peace.

Erik hesitated for a moment before kissing her cheek. He smiled, brushed the kiss away, got up and left her to dream.

Who knows, maybe she was dreaming of him.

The thought gave him hope.

* * *

><p><strong>Dawwwww Erik 3 So confused... And in the dark himself! Thank you all for your reviews! They were so wonderful for the last chapter, I can't believe I made you guys cry. That is really the goal for my writing; I love to get emotional responses from people. It means you like the story! Haha :D<strong>

**Review with ideas and thoughts! THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE! **


	11. Nighttime's Kiss

**Oh my god, I made a deadline. Holy shit. That's amazing. At first, I was afraid that I wasn't going to make it, but then the moment I got home today I was like fuck this I'm writing the rest of this NOW. So I did. Whoop whoop! **

**THANK YOU for all of the reviews, guys! I LOVE YOU ALL. Keep them coming! Give me ideas. I don't know what to do with this story after a certain point that I created in my head, so if you give me ideas, that means I can make the story longer. **

**SammiRichGurl: I laughed when I read you laughed. Haha! And thank you for loving this story! I promise I have not been stealing your ideas if my Erik seems similar, I don't really have time to read other people's stories now lol. **

**13sapphire13: Thank you! Basically, they're trying to make the other one conform to their own ideas, haha.**

**PanicAtTheExpress: Yes. I am evil. Quite evil, actually; you can ask anyone who knows me. I have quite the death stare :D. And yeah, I pretty much ignored Doug this chapter (lol spoiler) because I want to get a big part on him next chapter. He is quite depressed, and he deserves more than a small notion at the beginning/end. Ahhh! Read the chapter, and then like, everything you said in your review is mentioned haha. **

** Plague's Vengeance: Hurr is da update :D You hopeless romantic you. **

**PhantomFan01: I know right :D :D **

**Xxnikkigirl123xX: Beauty and the Beast is one of my favorite Disney movies like, ever. And Aladdin. And Mulan. **

**RedDeathLvr: Nice profile pic! :P **

**TheRabidWriter: You made me smile so much :D I pinky promise I'm not copying you! I guess our minds are just infused together o.O And yes, I got like, five emails from one person and I was like, what the fuck? Haha, but I don't mind! And I laughed at Erik giving you a tissue box. Haha**

**Poeko: I expect to see you here for every chapter then. -stares down- **

**Erik: Thank you so much. To be honest, I am actually thinking of majoring in English and writing kids books later on... I'm practicing writing with this story; its the first one I have written in like, a LONG time. I'm glad that my writing has not suffered that horribly! **

* * *

><p>"And one two three, one two three, one two three, <em>up<em>…. And down!"

Aimee charged into the studio, burst through the door into the practice room, and kneeled over with both hands on her knees.

"I… I'm… Here…" she gasped.

All movement stopped. Aimee looked up, still panting, to see the entire dance room filled with every actor and actress that would be in the play. She recognized a few faces. All of them, however, were staring directly at her. Aimee looked down at herself and realized she forgot to change in her mad dash over here. She noticed Doug's blood stood out quite frighteningly on her black top, her hair was a mess, and she forgot to take off her combat boots before leaving a trail of dirt on the wooden floors.

"Well." Said the dance instructor, looking Aimee up and down with a glare, "It appears that our _Christine_ decided to show up today."

A couple of whispers broke out. The woman glanced over at them, all dressed in dancing clothes and shoes. The instructor appeared to be around thirty years old; she had long blonde hair and was about as thin as Aimee's wrist. She was quite tall, however, standing almost 5'8. The woman's bright red lipstick and black dancing clothes stood out nicely on her pale skin.

Aimee stood up slowly, feeling quite intimidated, "I'm extremely sorry, Ma'am, I only just got the message that I was in the play around ten minutes ago-"

"Messages were sent out two days ago." The instructor said with an annoyed click of her tongue, "Should you be late to another one of my lessons, you will not enjoy the consequences. Be lucky it is not my decision to remove you from your role."

Aimee gulped. Who _was_ this lady?

"Go and make yourself presentable." She snapped, shoving a finger to the restroom across the floor. Aimee nodded quickly and shuffled through the large room. All across the walls were bars and mirrors. She tried not to look into them; all she saw was a reflection of about twenty faces staring at her.

Opening the door labeled "Women", she quickly shut it behind her. Aimee walked up to the small mirror and groaned at the sight before her. Sweat stuck to her forehead, her hair was a tangled mop, and a couple of cuts were drawn across her chin. Aimee scrubbed her face down and soaked her hair in the sink. She quickly dried it with a few paper towels and threw it into a bun. She took off her boots, rolled up her pants the best she could, and simply shrugged at her bloody shirt. Aimee was not about to take it off.

People watched at her as she exited the bathroom.

"Hurry up!" the instructor snapped, pointing to her spot in the warm up block. Aimee darted up to her, noticing her spot was front and center. She felt eyes staring at the back of her head, watching her, judging her.

"You will have to follow along with our warm up dance, Miss…?"

"Aimee... My name is Aimee." She said quickly.

"Yes. Aimee. We learned our warm up dance while you were gone. Simply follow along, if you would." The blonde instructor said, turning on the music. Aimee instantly recognized the song.

"Sing along if you know the words! Get those vocal cords warmed up too!" the instructor called out, standing in front of the group, whipping her hair away from her face before the words began.

_Been there done that, messed around_

_I'm having fun, don't put me down_

_I'll never let you sweep me off my feet._

Aimee struggled to keep up with the whirling bodies and swooping motions. She herself was not the best dancer, but she was decent. Aimee managed to catch up when the group all jumped at once in a backwards motion on 'sweep me off my feet'.

_I won't let you in again_

_The messages I tried to send_

_My information's just not going in._

_Burning bridges shore to shore _

_I break away from something more_

_I'm not turned on to love until it's cheap._

There were a lot of spinning involved in this dance, Aimee noticed. Spin, spin, jump, roll, flourish, extend, point, jump, twirl, whirl, and _throw_. It was exhausting.

_Been there, done that, messed around_

_I'm having fun don't put me down_

_I'll never let you sweep me off my feet._

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_I won't let you turn around_

_And tell me now, I'm much too proud_

_To walk away from something when it's dead._

Everyone slammed on the ground on the word dead, and threw their heads back up, slowly rising through the next verse as they stared intently at their reflection.

_Do, do, do your dirty words_

_Come out to play when you're hurt?_

_There's certain things that should be left unsaid._

They began dancing again, moving in sharp, sudden movements.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick on the watch_

_And life's to short for me to stop_

_Oh baby, your time is running out. _

_I won't let you turn around_

_And tell me now, I'm much too proud_

_All you do is fill me up with doubt._

Everyone stopped, paused, and began to fouetté* continuously through the rest of the song.

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time I'll be bullet proof_

_This time I'll be bullet proof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

_This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof_

They all ended sliding down from their turns into a collapsed position on the floor. Gasps echoed off of the walls, everyone wiped out from the routine. The dance was insane, Aimee realized. And it was only the warm up?

"That was alright for having done it for the first time." The instructor said to the class, "Everyone needs to work on their fouettés, especially the dancers in the play." She said, eying the group of girls near the back all dressed in white. There was about ten of them. They all quickly nodded to her, heads to the ground.

"Now." Said the woman, "I will teach you all the opening dance. Everyone must learn it, except for you, Aimee. You are backstage at this point…"

Two and a half hours later, their dance class ended, and the group was instructed to proceed upstairs to the second floor of the studio. Aimee gathered her boots and followed the group as they all tried to use the small staircase at the same time. Waiting patiently at the bottom, a couple girls walked up to Aimee.

"Hello!" said one. She had short, straight jet black hair and stood around 5'5, "My name is Amanda. You are Aimee, yes?"

Aimee nodded to her, "Yes."

Amanda grinned to her, "Ah, you made quite the entrance today! Madame Fiona looked ready to murder you where you stood!"

"Ah, so that's the devil's name?" Aimee laughed.

"Yes, yes." Amanda said laughing. She pointed to the two girls standing behind her, "This is April and May, by the way. They're twins, and we are all dancers in the play."

April and May both waved as she said their name. They both were the same height as Amanda, both of them had curly brown hair down to the middle of their backs, and both had bright blue eyes. Aimee smiled and waved at them. She was happy that someone made the effort to speak with her.

"Nice to meet you." She said to the twins.

"You too!" they said in unison.

The four of them began to shuffle up the stairs along with the rest of the crowd.

"So," Amanda said as they climbed, "Everyone wants to know why you came so late and why on earth you are covered in blood!"

"Oh." Aimee said with a sigh, "Well, I was a little… busy before this and I didn't get the text that I was in the play until like, ten minutes before practice started. It was a mess. I had to speed over here and didn't have time for anything. I feel horrible about it."

"But why do you have blood on you?"

"My friend had a bit of an accident. I was in the hospital with him all weekend."

"Oh, that's horrible! What happened?"

Aimee's acting skills came in handy as she lied to them, "Oh, he was skateboarding down the road and he was too cocky to look where he was going. The idiot went right off the stairs near the park, and I had to save his ass."

"Is he okay?" May asked.

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine now." Aimee said, unsure herself as they walked into a carpeted room filled with chairs, "Just not able to like, move for now. I guess."

"Well, I hope he gets better!" April cried as the four of them took seats near the middle. Others began to fill in around them. Songs books were passed out.

"Welcome," came a dreamy voice from the doorway, "To your singing class."

A man dressed in a black shirt and pants stepped from the doorway and into sight. His blonde hair was slicked back, and a bright white tie flowed over his chest. His Italian shoes snapped against the ground as he walked over to the front of the room.

"It's Jacob Andrews." Amanda whispered to Aimee quickly, "Famous for acting and singing. He was in like, all of the plays back when he was young. Not that he's not young now; he's like, late thirties I want to say?"

Aimee nodded to her, eyes never leaving Jacob's form. He was quite the looker. While not quite so tough-guy looking, he gave off a sexy appeal through words rather than muscle.

"Now. I'm sure you are all dying to get started, yes? Well, warm up on your own then! For now, let me see our Christine and Phantom!"

Aimee got up, as well as a man from across the room. The two walked up to Jacob, each one looking at the other. The man was quite tall; about a foot taller than Aimee. He had short black hair, was quite muscular, and had a bit of facial hair around his square jaw to give him a manly edge. His brown eyes gave off a mysterious vibe. The man gave her a dashing smile, and Aimee blushed.

"Ah, hello, hello!" Jacob cried with a smile. He clapped his hands together, looking from one to the other, "Aimee, yes? And Drew?" Both nodded, "Well, first of all, excellent work getting your roles! You two will need to be working together constantly over the next few months or our entire show will fail miserably, yes? Yes. Now, I want you two to go into that room over there," he said pointing to a small practice room off to the left, "And go practice Think of Me, and Music of the Night. Off you go! I shall stay with everyone else to practice songs that the chorus sings!"

Aimee and Drew walked off into the practice room, shutting the glass door behind them. They could see everything going on in the other room, and everyone could see what they were doing as well.

"Uhm, hi." Aimee said awkwardly, turning to face Drew. He was already seated, flipping through his music book.

"Hey." He said casually, not even looking up, "I'll critique you first."

Aimee nodded quickly, sensing he was all business. She was glad; Aimee did not want to make small talk. Today had been stressful enough. She wouldn't be able to think of what to say.

After going over both of their songs several times, each one making adjustments, they had a few spare moments before they would be signaled back into the main room.

"So, you're the one who came in late." Drew said with a sly grin. Aimee covered her face with a hand, embarrassed.

"Yes, yes. Guilty as charged." She huffed.

Drew laughed. It was almost musical, and yet a little dark. Aimee could hardly believe it.

"Oh, don't worry about Madame Fiona. She has had something stuck up her ass for a good five years now." Drew said with a wave, shutting his music book with a snap, "You are a wonderful singer, and a fine dancer. I was watching you during the dance lesson."

Aimee felt embarrassed; for some reason, Drew watching her at any time made her nervous. Probably because she knew she would be kissing him in the future. Would that be weird? They seemed to be getting along. Maybe they could be friends? But would that be a bit odd, two friends kissing in a play?

A tap came at the door; Amanda was peering inside their small room, motioning for them to rejoin the group.

A couple hours of practicing later, the performers were finally released after a few compliments from Jacob.

Aimee sighed as she stepped out into the chilly night. She quickly rolled her pants back down and shivered her way to her car.

"See you, Aimee!" called April and May

"Bye!" she called back with a wave.

"Aimee."

Aimee jumped as she heard Drew's voice behind her, "Oh! Hey Drew, what's up?" she said, turning around to face him.

"I just wanted to know when you were free so we can practice. The director gave me the script," he said, waving a packet in his hand, "early so the two of us can start going over our important scenes."

"Oh!" Aimee said with a blink, thinking when they could meet. Suddenly, Doug came back into existence in her mind, "Well… I don't know. A lot of my free time will be spent with my friend, Doug, who got into that accident…"

"Oh." Drew said a little dejected, "Well how about you save weekends, just for me?" and gave a winning smile, "You can just stay over my house Saturday and Sunday, and I'll drive you to practice and back home on Monday. You'll have the whole week to spend time with… What was his name? Doug?"

Aimee considered it. Staying over his house? She just met this guy…

"Alright, sounds good!" she said, offering him a small smile.

"Awesome. I'll see you Wednesday then. Night!"

Drew walked off into the night. Aimee stood there, wondering why she agreed to spend all of her weekend with a man she just met. What was she thinking?

Aimee walked over to her car, jumped in, and blasted the heat.

What if he was some kind of freak? Would she be sleeping on the couch in a sea of filth? Or maybe he was a neat freak, and would beat her if she dropped something on the floor.

Aimee pulled out of the parking lot, and began to drive home.

Whatever it was, for some reason beyond her comprehension, Aimee liked Drew. He gave off a trusting, and not so trusting vibe all at the same time. It intrigued her. She wanted to get to know him.

Aimee pushed the subject out of her head; she shouldn't be worrying about that right now. She had to focus on Doug. When she left him, he didn't look very well. Would he be alright? Why was she worrying so much about Doug now? It wasn't like she was his mother or something. No, she was his friend. Maybe even best friend.

Aimee pulled up into her driveway, climbed out of the car, and unlocked her front door. She sighed, kicking off her boots and began to casually undress herself as she made her way over to the shower. Aimee flipped on the hot water and jumped in, not even waiting for it to heat up. She cried out as the small icy bullets shot at her, but welcomed them all the same. It would get warm soon enough; she would have to endure the pain for now.

Aimee's mind began to wander as she began to wash herself.

Her life had gone from slow and anxious to hectic and frightening all in a weekend. How did all of it happen? Her thoughts turned to Abigail and the Phantom. It had not been more than two days, and Aimee already had plans to return to the Opera House after the Phantom had told her exactly what he would do should they go back. She shuddered at the thought. Maybe he wouldn't count it as returning if she wasn't looking for Abigail?

What if he didn't care and simply killed her anyway? What would happen if she died, now that she was in the play? Who would play Christine? Who would look after Doug?

Why did she have so many unanswered questions?

Aimee needed to get some sleep. Life was taking far too much of a toll on her.

Aimee slowly got out of the shower, changed, and walked into her room. She didn't even bother turning on the light; Aimee simply fell onto her bed and passed out without another thought.

* * *

><p>"Abigail, our lesson is to begin shortly." Erik called.<p>

Abigail ignored him, unmoving. She heard Erik's footsteps walk over to her spot in front of the large mirror.

"What is wrong, Abigail?" Erik asked. Abigail reached up, touching the mirror's cool surface. She let out a small, curious sigh.

"Erik… What do I look like?" she asked casually. She heard Erik laugh softly behind her.

"Oh, what an odd question, my little pianist." He laughed, brushing back a piece of her hair from his position behind her, "You are…"

A moment passed.

"You are… Beautiful." Erik declared, "You have gorgeous dark brown curly hair. Your curls fall across your face perfectly; your skin is slightly pale, but it gives off a splendid contrast to your hair. You are a bit short, my apologies, but it is an adorable height. Your features are flawless, and while not disgustingly thin, you are the perfect size. And your eyes… Abigail, your eyes are the best thing about you."

Abigail turned around to face him, shocked. She always imagined her eyes frightened people.

"They are exactly like a stormy sea. You cannot see through them, but you know that there is something beyond the fog. And it is a beautiful fog, Abigail. I could stare into your mysterious little eyes for hours."

Abigail blushed, "How do you even know what the sea looks like?" Abigail teased, giving him a small shove.

"I do not wish to leave the comforts of the Opera House." Erik replied sharply, breaking the moment.

"Why not?"

"Why would I? The world is a cruel place, Abigail. I'm starting to feel like a broken record around you. Must I repeat this _every_ day?"

Abigail put a hand on his arm, "But Erik, I simply don't understand how you can think that the world has not changed in the slightest since you have been outside. I mean, you went out when you got me all of these things," she said, waving a hand over her black tank top and jeans, "you saw how different everything was. Why don't you give the world a shot?"

"The world never gave me a shot." Erik growled, moving away from the mirror. She heard him pace back and forth for a moment before pausing in front of her, "Abigail. You must understand… You… Are living in some sort of thought that people are all good. This is not the case! Humans are evil by nature. There is no stopping the greed and hate that is consuming our race."

"But-"

"Listen to me, Abigail." Erik said, walking back over to her and taking her hands. Abigail froze as he spoke, "It is so much safer down here than up in the world. And what are you possibly missing up there that you cannot find down here?" Erik struggled for a moment in thought, "Abigail, close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Close your eyes."

She closed them.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing of course."

"Now open them."

She did.

"What do you see?" he repeated.

"_Nothing_!" Abigail yelled, growing slightly frustrated. What purpose did this serve?

"Then what is so special about the world beyond our little niche, Abigail? There are no distractions down here, we can live how we wish. Why must you consume yourself in dreams of a bright, happy world, when that is simply not the case?"

Abigail sputtered, searching for a response. Erik took her face in his hand, stroking her cheek. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling.

"Oh, my little pianist." Erik sighed, "Listen to me, Abigail... Let no one else whisper things into your head. Not even yourself."

And he sang.

_**Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation **_

_**Darkness stirs and wakes imagination **_

_**Silently the senses abandon their defenses**_

Erik drew Abigail close to him. Her breathing picked up; she didn't know what she should do. Abigail simply let him tilt her head up to him as he continued to sing,

_**Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor**_

_**Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender**_

Abigail bowed her head, trying to push a little away from Erik. She needed a clear head, not one filled with song. However, Erik only pulled her closer, and drew her head back up to him.

_**Turn your face away from the garish light of day**_

_**Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light**_

Erik snaked his arm around her waist as he slide the hand holding her chin down to her neck, stroking her jaw slowly.

_**And listen to the music of the night.**_

Abigail shut her eyes and listened. It was so easy, so carefree. She did not need to see Erik; she could feel him.

_**Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams**_

_**Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before**_

_**Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar**_

_**And live as you've never lived before**_

Erik spun Abigail around and began to slowly dance the two of them around the lair. She could feel his eyes staring at her, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around him and let the nighttime carry her away.

_**Softly, deftly, music shall caress you**_

_**Hear it, feel it secretly possess you**_

_**Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind**_

_**In this darkness that you know you cannot fight**_

_**The darkness of the music of the night.**_

Perhaps living down below the Opera House for all eternity wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe never feeling the heat of the sun, or the chill of the wind was a fair exchange for the defense that this everlasting twilight would bring to Abigail.

_**Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world**_

_**Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before**_

_**Let your soul take you where you long to be**_

Erik bent her over slowly as he drew out the next line,

_**Only then you can belong to me.**_

Abigail opened her eyes to the darkness. Belong to him? She didn't really like the sound of that. Freedom, if anything, was priceless to her. Even with her sight chaining her down, Abigail considered her ability to do as she wished key to survival.

This thought vanished the moment that Erik kissed her neck. Abigail sighed deeply, letting him carry her off towards the swan bed.

_**Floating, falling, sweet intoxication **_

_**Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation**_

_**Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in**_

_**To the power of the music that I write**_

_**The power of the music of the night**_

Erik walked closer to the swan bed, slowly moving his hands up to Abigail's face as he almost forced her to back up to the edge of the bed. They paused for a moment, both waiting for the other.

_**You alone can make my song take flight**_

_**Help me make the music of the night…**_

Erik's thumb caresses her bottom lip. Abigail could hardly breathe. She felt numb. Her mind had shut down. Nothing but the two of them existed. Abigail wrapped her arms around his chest, seeking his warmth, wanting to be closer to his protection. She suddenly felt so safe in this darkness, this comforting knowledge that there was nothing down here but them. There was nothing to be afraid of for there was nothing else to see or hear or touch.

And oh, Erik just felt so… _Alive_. So… vibrant. He reacted to her clutch, moving himself closer to Abigail. She let him close the distance between their bodies. She let him pull her chin closer to his face.

She let him press his lips against hers.

She let him stay there for a moment, petrified. But she also let him slowly relax, and then she let him pull back slowly.

It was her first kiss.

Abigail reached up and touched her tingling lips. She giggled, a bit drunk with this new feeling.

"Do not leave me in the darkness, Abigail… Stay with me in this blanket of night. We are safe here. No one will harm us. "

Suddenly, it felt wrong. No, no, no! Abigail did not want this, any of this. But she was lying to herself… She wanted Erik. Abigail knew this now; Erik and her were so different, and yet, so similar. She _did_ feel safe around him. But safety was not the only feeling anymore. Perhaps love began to sprout; when, exactly, was an excellent question.

But Abigail, while living in the darkness, was a creature of the light. She needed to feel the sun on her skin and know it was there to brighten the world around her. She desperately wanted to smell sweet flowers and imagine their bright colors. Abigail wanted to listen to the buzz of a crowded street and fantasize about a passing stranger's appearance.

And, oh, how desperately she wanted to see Aimee and Doug again.

Abigail closed her eyes; she wanted both worlds. She wanted to be with this creature of darkness, and yet, she did not want to extinguish the light within her.

But Abigail was forgetting something. Hope was not yet lost; Abigail still had a chance to convince Erik to come out of his twilight, and step into the light. She had to make him believe in the world.

Erik was blind.

Abigail would make Erik _**see**_.

* * *

><p><strong>WELL? HOW DO YOU LIKE ITTTTTTT? :D<strong>

**We are approaching a part in the story I have had planned for like, EVER. I want to write it so badly, but I must not rush it... Must not rush it... o.o**

**The more you review, the faster the next chapter gets out! Yay for new chapters!**

**Remember, expected updates are posted at the bottom of my profile page.**


	12. An Unseen Storm

**SORRY FOR SUCH A LONG TIME SINCE UPDATING I EXPLAIN AT THE END.**

**THANK YOU FOR REVIEWS I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHH!**

**69 reviews... auehehehehehehe**

**13sapphire13: I hope so! -wink wink-**

**Maxine I Love Erik: O.o I'm sorry! Here, here, take a chapter, don't let Erik kill you!**

**RedDeathLvr: Thanks! I always find it hard to write fluff. I try to make it not awkward or anything lol. **

**TheRabidWriter: Don't die! And I love music of the night! Haha, I've been waiting to put it in at just the right moment. And LOL at easy bake oven**

**PanicAtTheEpicness: I"M SORRY! Hahahaa, for some reason I read it wrong! I hope you like this chapter as well... I don't like it as much, I could have done better with it lol. I just had to rush it. And I know, he just had to kiss her. Eleven chapters in, its time for a god damn kiss already, lol. As for sarcasm, I will try to incorporate that in some more dialogue... I just didn't have time to check to see what people wanted me to put in for this chapter because, well, I didn't even have time to make it that long!**

**SammiRichGirl: I'm so happy I inspired you! I love inspiring people! :D**

**Xxnikkigirl123xX: HURR IT IZ**

**PhantomFan01: I know, its like some soap opera, lmao**

**cHCkrdFLatZ: Thanks! I know before I had trouble with rushing too. The trick is don't rush the beginning to get to the meat of the story. Make people suffer through the set up! Mwuahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...**

**Poeko: Your name is adorable. Just saying. And I hate those other OC who just drool over Erik too. Its not realistic at all lol. And Erik would never start drooling over someone else from the start either.**

**Markirs: I am but a slave! Here, enjoy!**

**goodie58: I hope soooooooooooooooooooo! :D**

* * *

><p><em>Tick, tick, tick<em>

_The clock is running out. _

_Time is moving on_

_Unmoving_

_Un-phasing._

_Repetition is repeating_

_But, alas, new forms, new moves, new sounds, all at once._

_Learning, loving, seeing, breathing_

_Lift me up, let me soar, let me live!_

_Tick, tick, tick._

_The clock is running out._

_Time is moving on. _

_But, wait…_

_No._

_No pausing, no freezing_

_Not a moment to spare._

_Live it, now! Quickly, quickly, quickly!_

_Take this chance, do not spare it._

_Tick, tick, tick._

_Your time, my love, is running out._

Abigail woke to the sound of Beethoven.

Again.

She smiled, snuggling deeper into the silk covers surrounding her, listening to the rises and falls of "Moonlight Sonata". It was such a romantic, and yet, seemingly funeral-esque piece. How could Beethoven have captured such a rare feeling? Perhaps he realized these tones could coincide with each other; they could exist in harmony throughout the piece together… Such contradictory emotions, love and death, both living and breathing through these two hands, rhythmically and peacefully.

Erik ended the song. Abigail's mood instantly dropped; she wanted to cry out, _Play it again! Oh, make your hands dance!_

But he didn't. Rather, Erik's footsteps glided across the floor, stopping next to her bedside.

"Are you awake yet, my little pianist?" Erik called softly.

She shook her head quickly, wrapping the sheets tighter around herself. Abigail did not want to move; she could stay in this cloud listening to Erik play forever.

A small chuckle escaped his lips. Erik lay down next to her, filling the indentation his body had formed from overnight. Abigail smiled at the memory of him laying there next to her, holding her as dreams stole her away from his touch. Erik wrapped his arms around her, brushing back a large chunk of hair that found its way across her face.

"Our lessons begin soon. I suggest getting ready, or we will begin while you are still half asleep."

"I don't wanna." She pouted.

"If you do not, we will not get to your lesson." He threatened. This disappointed Abigail; she was quite excited to show Erik more of the twenty first century. She had so much lined up for him to do and see!

"Alright." She said, giving in. Abigail offered him a small kiss on his mask, and slipped away to the bathroom.

About an hour later, Abigail found herself singing at the organ, dressed in a strapless yellow sun dress that hugged her near the top, and getting loose near the bottom, stopping just above her knees. She was still drilling different tones, not yet having uttered a sing musical word in her lessons as of yet. However, she did find when singing softly to herself that these drills were doing their job. Abigail could sing higher, lower, and with a better tone than before. She felt new muscles developing not only in her throat, but in her stomach as well.

"Again." Erik demanded.

She sang.

"No, no, that's not it. It's _this_." And he would sing it to her.

A couple of hours later, their lesson came to an end. Abigail, although slightly frustrated at her lack in progress, was pleased with the day's results.

"Okay!" Abigail cried, jumping off the seat, "Today, we are going to listen to some recent artists."

"Very well." Erik replied. The sound of papers being put away met Abigail's ears. She heard him get up and stand next to her.

"Do you have a radio around here somewhere?"

"No."

"Well," Abigail said, "we can just go to my apartment for the rest of the day then. I have everything we need there."

A pause.

"Your home?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?" she asked, making her way to the boat. An arm grabbed her just as she was about to fall into the water.

"I don't know. I never thought about where you might have lived before here." He said, steering her over to the boat.

"Well, do you have a car or something?" Abigail said, sitting down.

"No. We will have to walk."

"Well, it's quite the walk. About ten, fifteen minutes. I suggest changing out of your cape."

A huff came from the darkness, "Very well." And Erik walked off. A couple minutes later, Erik returned, the usual _snap_ of his shoes gone and replaced with a much softer step.

"Well, don't you look dashing!" she cried.

"You can't even see me."

"But I know you look hot." She said, jokingly wagging her eyebrows.

"Shut up." He snapped, pushing the boat off and jumping inside. Abigail laughed. He was so easy to annoy.

After making the trip outside of the Opera House (the time spent mostly by Abigail bugging Erik as to what exactly he was wearing), Abigail paused, breathing in the afternoon air.

Clean, cool, fresh air. It was so much different than the musky air down in the dungeon. The air above ground was lighter; it carried more of a happy feeling to it. Abigail felt Erik's eyes on the back of her neck, and decided to continue on.

She directed him exactly where her apartment was; the trip would take about fifteen minutes, she repeated from before.

"I do not understand this technology nonsense. I was perfectly fine without all of it." Erik said, grabbing her hand quite hastily. He sounded a bit distracted.

Abigail blushed a little bit at this new contact, but let him hold her hand. She liked it, even if it was a little uncomfortable to her. Abigail never had someone besides Doug hold her hand before, and that was when he was directing her, not out of liking her. He was not wearing any gloves today; his hands felt soft and rough at the same time. Erik's thumb ran across her knuckles soothingly, going back and forth, not stopping.

Was this what couple did? Hold hands and snuggle at night? Was Erik and her a couple? Were they dating? What did that mean for them now? It's not like he asked her or gave her a choice. Perhaps he just assumed that she wanted to be with him. Suddenly, she had the question burning at her lips.

"Erik, are we… Going out?" she asked nervously.

"What is… Going out?" he replied, confused.

"Like, dating."

Erik stopped, making her face him as he spoke, "I thought you agreed to that when you kissed me."

"You never really asked me, though." She replied, "I don't feel like it's really… Official."

Erik sighed. He took both of her hands, kissed each one once and said, "Abigail. Would you do me the honor and allowing me to, officially, become your love interest?"

Abigail burst out in laughter. Love interest? It was too cute.

"What?" Erik said annoyed, "You wanted me to ask!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Yes, yes, I will." She said, wiping a tear from her eye, "It was just really adorable how you worded it."

"Adorable? I am _not_ adorable." Erik hissed, walking on without her.

Abigail laughed, running a bit to catch up with him. Erik took her hand in his again, forgiving her instantly. Abigail smiled up at him, enjoying his power she held.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at her small little apartment. Abigail walked up to the door and instinctively located the poorly hidden key. After unlocking it, she opened her house to Erik, dropping the key on the small table next to the door for safe keeping.

"Now don't go and move things around," she warned, "otherwise I won't know where anything is anymore."

"It's very small." Erik called, already exploring. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I can't afford much. And I don't need much either, so it sort of works out."

"_How_ do you read these?" Erik yelled from where her bookshelves were. She followed his voice, arriving next to him. Abigail plucked the novel from Erik's hands and moved a couple fingers over the title. It was Harry Potter and the Sorceress Stone. A giant smile spread across her face.

"Ah, Harry Potter! Best series ever."

"What is a Harry Potter?" Erik asked, confused, "All I see is a black book with bumps on it.

"Not what, Erik, but who. I'll tell you what; I'll read you some of it." She said as she sat down on the floor, patting the ground next to her. She heard Erik sit down next to her, scooting a bit closer.

Abigail opened the book, placed her fingers at the first word, and began to read aloud,

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much._

"Who are the Dursleys?" Erik interrupted

"Just listen. You can ask questions at the end of each chapter only." Abigail snapped, foreseeing ten thousand questions ahead of them. She read to the end of the chapter, changing her voice along with the character. She could tell Erik was thinking quite hard, for not a sound came from him through the entire chapter. When she finally finished with Harry being left on the foot of the Dursley's house, Erik was still silent, expecting more to come.

"That's the end of the chapter." She reminded him.

"Oh." Erik said, shifting his position slightly, "I'm quite confused…"

And he proceeded to ask thirty questions on a single chapter. Abigail was dumbfounded. Where did he manage to store all of them?

"Erik, maybe I should just keep reading. I'm sure all of your questions will be answered." She said, avoiding answering the continuous stream of curiosity emitting from his brain.

"Very well." Erik replied, leaning back on the bookshelf. He pulled Abigail closer to him. She ignored it, continuing with the next chapter.

They remained there for hours with Abigail calmly reading Harry's adventures to a contemplative Erik. He patiently listened as Abigail brought the story to life with her words, making descriptions come alive as they rolled off of her tongue and into the air around them. She could tell that he was enjoying the tale; he would react to different things with a small laugh at something humorous, or a slight _huff _when something displeased him. Shockingly, Abigail managed to read the entire novel to him in six hours.

_"See you over the summer, then." _

_"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant._

"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer...".

Abigail shut the book with a smile, stretching her sore arms. She heard Erik crack his back from next to her. The two were in a post-reading daze; both a little sleepy, both a little light headed. Lack of movement caused the two to groan in misery as they stood, muscles screaming to return to hibernation.

"What did you think of it?" Abigail yawned, placing the novel back on the shelf.

"It was… Pleasant." Erik responded, "Very, very different from the books that I have indeed."

"Writing has changed a lot since the authors of your time, Erik. These books were aimed more towards teenagers, but they still carry a really strong message."

"And what is that?" Erik asked curiously, "All I saw in it was a nice little tale of magical people."

"You need to figure that out for yourself. We should read the rest of the series, or watch the movies. The soundtrack is absolutely amazing. Here, I'll play you a piece from the seventh movie…"

"There's seven movies on this?"

"Actually there are eight," Abigail replied as she walked over to the piano, Erik walking behind her, "There are seven books, but the last one was made into two movies."

"And we will read them _all_?" he asked, bewildered.

"If you want to. I love them." She said, sitting down at the piano, "The books are not just some fantasy world. You can relate to the characters; they go through pain and suffering, love and hate. Their emotions are exactly of people living today. Here, I'll play you Harry and Ginny."

Abigail placed her hands on the keys, and began to play. It was such a sad tune, but she knew exactly why. They loved each other so much, but could not be together out of fear. Harry longed for Ginny, and she to him, and somehow their love managed to survive through the war they fought. Abigail loved this; all of the pain that the two characters went through was displayed through this piece. There were happy moments, symbolizing the time they spent together, but there was also so much longing and desire. Something was always missing.

"It is beautiful." Erik said, "Quite depressing, however."

"It's a story of two people who love each other, but cannot be together until the end." She replied, "It's a sad song."

"I see. Perhaps I will learn why when we read the next book tomorrow."

Abigail clapped her hands in excitement. She had not read the series in the longest time; this was her chance to have some Harry Potter nostalgia.

She got up and lead him around the rest of her house. When she got to her bedroom, she jumped onto her bed and sighed deeply. It had been so long since she had slept here; it felt almost uncomfortable compared to the swan bed, and yet, it was so much more welcoming and safe.

"Tired?" Erik asked from the doorway.

"Quite."

"Sleep then."

"Nah."

Erik walked over to the bed, pulling the sheets over her, "Sleep, Abigail. I will be just outside."

"Doing what?"

"Singing you to sleep."

And he did. Abigail heard the piano's fine notes float all through the house, blending perfectly with Erik's voice. It soothed her, and without knowing it, she was pulled out of the world around her into the sea of dreams.

* * *

><p>The room was cold. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.<p>

He felt himself dying. He could almost hear bits of his soul leaving his body; he could almost sense his mind shutting down.

He did not care.

Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing, nothing, nothing!

Everything was cold; so, so cold…

A shiver ran up his spine.

Blankets lay at his feet. He did not make a move to retrieve them. Why should he prolong his life? He wanted to die. He wanted to destroy himself. This thing, this hideous thing that was his body, had to end. This horrible mind, this evil soul, must be exterminated.

So he waited.

He waited for something to kill him. He waited for some force to end this miserable mistake.

Darkness slowly became his light.

His stomach ached. Nothing had been consumed. Sleep eluded him. He had no idea how long he had been here. Perhaps it had been years. Months. Weeks? Maybe days. Perhaps only hours. He didn't care. All he knew was that he wished to remain.

He heard a few knocks. Somewhere far, far away there was a door opening. A few words were heard. Move movement. It came closer, closer, closer. Fear overwhelmed him. Was this death, finally coming to save him? To finally destroy this abomination?

A door opened. Light shot through the room.

He wanted to scream.

It burned him, and yet he felt nothing at all.

"My god, it's freezing in here!" came a familiar voice. A few beeps. A loud roar. Warmth began to fill the room again.

"Doug, why are you laying around? Get up, come on."

He did not do as this voice commanded.

"Are you okay, Doug?" the voice said gently. He felt something sit down next to him, "What's wrong?"

He opened his mouth to respond to this apparition, but no words came out.

"Look at me, Doug."

He opened his eyes. Aimee's face filled his view, light shining behind her.

"Why do I feel like this." He cried softly to her, "I want to die."

Tears welled up in Aimee's eyes. She leaned down and hugged him. He sat up, hugging her back. Suddenly, things seemed a little better. Maybe dying wasn't such a good idea.

"Doug, I know. She was your best friend."

"I loved her."

Aimee broke free from him, holding his face in her hands. She searched his eyes, looking deep into his soul.

She would find nothing.

"I think it's time to move on, Doug." She concluded.

Move on? How could he move on from this? The one person who understood him was gone, all because they failed. They were a disgrace.

"Go take a shower." Aimee commanded, pulling him up from the bed and sending him out the door. Doug obeyed. He was glad she was there to tell him what to do. Doug wasn't sure if he could function right now.

He tried to avoid thinking too much; it only brought him pain. So, he concentrated on small tasks. Shampoo. Soap. Water. Don't slip. Hair. Towel. Toothbrush. And so on.

Making his way back into his room, he found it had been cleaned. Aimee was putting the finishing touches on his freshly made bed as he tossed his dirty clothes into a nearby hamper. Doug stood there awkwardly, not sure of what to do next.

"Uh… How was your first practice." Doug mumbled

"It was okay. I met some new people."

"That's nice."

Silence.

"I decided that I'll spend weekdays with you until you're better." Aimee said a bit cheerfully, "And on weekends I'm going to stay with this guy-"

"What guy?" Doug demanded.

"He's playing the Phantom in the musical. We need to practice a lot, so we decided that would be best."

"I don't like the sound of this." Doug replied, shifting back and forth, "You just met the guy. What if he is weird or something?"

"On, Doug," Aimee said, folding her arms over her chest, "he is perfectly normal!"

"I want to meet him."

"Fine! We can stop off here before we leave for his house on Friday!"

"Fine!" Doug said angrily.

Aimee stared at Doug, slightly surprised, "Why are you so upset?"

"Why aren't you?" he demanded, "She was your best friend too."

Aimee sighed, "Doug. People leave your life all of the time."

"But she's with a mad man!"

"Maybe she's better off! The Phantom seemed to… I don't know, like her a bit. You were knocked out, you wouldn't know."

"I know who he is. I don't need to know any more."

"What if she's happy?"

"She's not. I know Abigail."

"You haven't seen her with him."

"I've seen more than you!"

Doug glared at Aimee. How could she imply that Abigail liked the Phantom? He was an insane man living below ground for the past two hundred or so years. HOW on EARTH could she POSSIBLY in a THOUSAND YEARS take a liking to him? He was a brute, a witch, a predator. The man was the opposite of Abigail. Abigail was an angel; he was a devil.

"I do not believe that Abigail could see anything but darkness in his heart." Doug said slowly.

"Maybe she changed him." Aimee said just as slowly, "She's _good at that_, you know."

It was true. Abigail had touched both of their lives, changing the two of them forever. But this was beyond the point. Nothing could change… _That_.

All he wanted was Abigail back, safe in his arms. He wanted her to say she loved _him_, just as much as he loved _her_.

He knew love was blinding him; Doug did not care. They made their way through the week with difficulty. Every day, Aimee would arrive at his house around ten in the morning. She would make sure he was up and running, which he never was. All he wanted to do was sleep away his troubles. It took about thirty minutes to coax him out of bed and start the day. Aimee would take care of him until she had to leave for practice, or when she didn't, she would stay with him until dinner and then leave.

She would read and watch movies with him. Doug knew she was trying to get him to get his mind off of Abigail, to try to get him to enjoy life again. But all he could think about was a new way of stealing her back. He felt bad for brushing off her efforts, but he knew she would forgive him when he finally got her back. Eventually.

Friday rolled around. He knew that today was the day she would be bringing over this man she would spend weekend with. Doug felt oddly protective of her; perhaps he did not want to lose another friend. He made a point to remind her the day before to bring him over.

Around nine thirty at night, a knock came at the door. Doug rushed over, making sure his grandmother did not get to it first. He opened the door to a smiling Aimee and a tall, handsome man behind her. Doug already did not like him.

"He, Doug. This is Drew." Aimee said, motioning behind her, "Can we come in? It's a bit cold."

Doug nodded stiffly, staring directly at Drew. Shutting the door behind them, Doug folded his arms over his chest, looking back and forth between them.

"So. Drew, right? Why do you want Aimee over your house again?" he asked rudely.

"Well, we need a lot more practice than everyone else." Drew said carefully, and slightly uncomfortably, "The show is literally about us, so we are basically the musical. If we are not perfect, the show is not perfect."

"I don't see the point in her staying over every weekend. I mean, what's the goal in that? Seems a bit much." He replied stiffly.

"Well, it's so we don't need to worry about transportation. She will have the guest bedroom. It's strictly professional, if _that's_ what you're worrying about."

Doug's eyes widened at the comment, but kept his cool.

"You just call me if you need me Aimee." he said, keeping his narrowed eyes on Drew, "I am only a cry for help away."

Drew raised his eyebrows, but didn't retaliate.

"Listen, Aimee," Drew said, "It's late. I'll be in the car waiting."

Aimee nodded, and he left. She sighed, shook her head, and made her way to the door.

"Its fine, Doug. He's not going to rape me or something. We're friends, okay? You need to trust me."

"I _do_ trust you, Aimee. I just don't trust _him_."

"I'm not getting kidnapped." She glared.

Doug sputtered, but didn't respond. Aimee shook her head and left without another word.

He growled at nobody and returned to his room. Doug began to think. He needed to get serious. One of the main reasons they failed, Doug had realized, was that Aimee and him did not plan enough for their rescue mission.

Doug already knew when he would do it; he just needed a game plan.

He giggled madly at his own ingenious. It was the perfect night to do it; he knew exactly where Abigail would be. Aimee would not be able to stop him. Nobody would be wondering where he would be…

Under the sheet of darkness, he would slip away while everyone's eyes were turned to her. Doug would snatch Abigail from under the Phantom's nose, and nobody would be the wiser.

He laughed again, clutching his hair to contain his master plan.

* * *

><p><strong>I feel so guilty... It was so short, I wanted it to be longer, and I wanted to go more into Doug and all, but ugh! Writers block held me back for awhile, but then I got this REALLY GOOD IDEA for the end of the story, so I wrote that down, and THAT wasted time, and I was planning on updating Thursday but then was like, OH FUCK. I havent written anything and its Thursday. So I wrote all of this in like two days (mostly just before uploading now) and I feel like it could have been done so much better. I promise I'll make the next one better, I pinky promise. <strong>

**Ugh, so mad at myself. **


	13. The Dark Future

**OKAY. So I know that my updating has been crappy recently, so I decided I need to change my updating schedule thingy. For now on, I am aiming to update EVERY WEDNESDAY. That will (hopefully) get me back to making quality shtuff. **

**A bit on this chapter... Since I'm changing update times and making it a bit more solid, I decided I won't wait until NEXT Wednesday to update since I have like none of the next chapter done, because I've been working a bit on this. Its an in-between chapter, BUT IT IS VERY IMPORTANT! I put a lot of thought into this. I hope you like it. Pay attention to small details... I promise, they are there for a reason.**

**SammiRichGurl: Yes, yes, Doug is getting to be quite the odd ball... Thank you :D**

**PanicAtTheEpicness: Thank you haha :P HARRY POTTER WAS MY CHILDHOOD TOO. Omg. And I know, Doug is getting a bit... Interesting. And are you talking about the movie made like, 2004 or something? Because I watched that haha. **

**Xxnikkigirl123xX: ****Harry Potter is awesome. Enough said.**

**13sapphire13: Awwww, don't hit Doug with a truck D: **

**RedDeathLvr: Thank you! I put a lot of contemplation into their relationship, as well as Doug haha.**

**Maxine I love Erik: o.O OKAY THEN xD **

**Markis: Past the point of no return? :P**

* * *

><p>The sound of waves met Abigail's ears. She smiled; sea water sprayed her face. Her arms lifted to the breeze, letting her exposed skin feel the gentle mist surrounding her.<p>

She opened her eyes. An ocean welcomed her.

She was standing on the shore, a few meters away from the brightest blue water she had ever seen. It was probably the only water she had seen, Abigail realized. A laugh escaped her lips as another gust of wind sent the cool mist flying through her long brown hair as it danced behind her.

Abigail looked down at herself. She was wearing a light weight white dress, stopping just above her knees in the front, but falling down to her feet from behind. Layers of silk flowed down from the material, emitting an almost angel-like feel. The back of the dress flowed in the wind behind her. She was not wearing any shoes; this prompted Abigail to dig her toes into the sand, amazed at this new texture. She was overjoyed.

Abigail noticed something on her hand. She was wearing a black ring. Tilting her head to the side, she examined it curiously. For some reason, this dark ring warmed her heart. She was glad it was there; if anything else was in its place, Abigail wasn't sure what she would do. She stroked it gently, and it began to vibrate. The ring began to send out small musical vibrations. The tune was familiar to her; she began to hum it under her breath as she walked closer to the water.

It was so _large_. Abigail felt so small next to it, this unyielding force of nature, this grand display of power. It felt as if she was walking towards a new world; a world where she did not belong. The ocean made her seem like an exotic beast as she stood next to it's aquatic beauty. Waves smashed into the ground, throwing white foam into the air; and then, rather quickly, the water rushed up to Abigail. She laughed as she imagined the water rushing up to her to say hello. Rather, the water cut through her, completely unphased by her presence.

Abigail looked out over the horizon as the waves engulfed her feet. The setting sun met her eyes. It was beautiful; orange, pink, yellow, and blue all met her sight in the most spectacular display of the rainbow. It seemed as if a picture had been painted across the sky. The sight took her breath away. She was smiling so much it hurt her cheeks, but Abigail simply could find no reason to frown.

Happiness was building up in her chest; she needed to release it. Abigail jumped through the water, kicking it around, not a care in the world. She laughed and danced by herself in the unending ocean, twirling and spinning like a mad man. Suddenly, her heart burst out into song as she danced,

_But his voice filled me with a strange, sweet sound_

_In that night there was music in my mind_

_And through music, my heart began to **soar**!_

Abigail held out the last note perfectly, slowly stopping her dance as she raised her hands to the sun. The beach was her stage, the sky her audience.

_Bang_.

Abigail jolted a little bit. She looked down. A red spot slowly began to form on her stomach. She was confused. Abigail turned around slowly, wondering what had happened.

She faced a man standing about fifty feet away. She couldn't tell who it was. He was covered in black.

The red spot grew larger, consuming her pure white dress. Suddenly, sadness filled her heart. Her smile faded.

The man was holding a silver gun. A bit of smoke was coming from the tip, the point still aimed at Abigail.

She held her chest, feeling weak. Her heart began to pound. She stumbled forward, falling to her knees a few feet away. Abigail cried out for help.

The ocean disappeared. Only sand surrounded her now.

The black creature did not move. It only watched in anger.

Abigail looked up at this man, this thing. She searched for some kind of explanation, some sort of reasoning, but found nothing. All she saw was his eyes, filled with hurt and anger, staring directly into her own.

He pocketed the gun and began to walk over to her. Abigail reached out a bloody hand, desperate for him to save her.

Once he approached, the creature kicked her shoulder with a grunt, throwing her broken form onto her back. She cried out as she hit the sand.

The sun set. Nighttime consumed the sky.

"_Help me_." She gasped, "_Please_…"

The man's face engulfed her vision. His face slowly became clear. Abigail's eyes widened.

She knew this man. He would help her.

She knew he would.

Abigail coughed up some blood, gasping for air.

Any minute now, he would save her.

But he simply glared at her, unmoving. A few tears formed in her eyes. Abigail did not want him to be upset. She hated it when he was mad. Had she done something wrong?

He turned to sand. The dust hovered in the air for a moment, creating a perfect statue of the man before blowing away with a burst of wind.

She wanted to jump in fright, but couldn't move. Her limbs refused to obey her brain. She was left there alone, staring up to the black sky, her dress sprayed out around her broken form.

The tears began to fall. She couldn't wipe them away.

A small twinkling sound caught her attention. Abigail looked to the sky, and saw that stars were beginning to appear in the shape of a piano. She tried to smile at the comforting sight, but found she couldn't.

_Abigail?_

She knew that voice. It sounded distant.

_Oh, Abigail..._

The piano in the sky began to play. The keys moved up and down by themselves, some unseen force performing for her. She had never heard it before, but oh, how she wished she had. The music brought her to tears. They began to pour down her face as she listened to the small rises, the grand falls; the sweeping holds and the tragic mood. Abigail felt her heart give a feeble attempt at soaring with the music, but it simply beat slower.

She could have laid there, forever alone, laying in a patch of bloody sand forever if someone told her she could listen to this musical tale forever. Abigail couldn't help but think how cruel it was that now, of all places, when she was abandoned, dying, and pleading up to the heavens for mercy, would be the time that she heard this song; this song that defined life.

Her breaths began to slow.

The music played on.

Abigail was suddenly afraid. Was this her dying gift from the heavens? Was she to disappear from life... forever? Where was she going? She prayed it would be better than here. It was so lonely. Her only friend was death's sweet embrace.

A familiar angel formed in the sky. He had been playing the starry piano all along.

Abigail slowly began to realize the truth. It made so much sense, Abigail realized. _Everything_ made sense now. Her soul was clouded by life; only death could set her free. She was beyond repair.

Abigail surrendered what little light she had to this angel. She opened her heart to this new mystery, this new adventure.

The music calmed her soul.

_And through music, my heart began to **soar**!_

But… Her heart had stopped. Her tears; dried.

The heavens opened.

And the music faded away.

* * *

><p>Erik filled his lungs with sweet, sweet air. It was the sweetest air he had ever breathed. The cleanest, purest oxygen he had even encountered. Nothing corrupted it; he was far, far away; farther than he, or anyone else, could possibly imagine he would go.<p>

Erik was in a large, thick forest. All around him, greens and browns filled his sight. Birds sung, small animals danced about; he could almost feel the sense of purity that this area beheld. It was untouched by humans, unseen by someone of his nature.

It was _perfect_.

A river came into view. It was about ten feet wide and stretched for miles each way, farther than he could see. Erik maneuvered around the trees, trying to get a closer look. The closer he got, the fresher the water looked. Kneeling down at the edge, he looked down at his reflection.

A smiling, bright face met his eyes. He was whole. He was clean. He was beautiful.

Erik reached down and cupped some water in his hands. He noticed on his finger was a bright, white ring. A small twinge went through his heart, for reasons unknown to him. He splashed the clear water over his smooth, healthy skin, ignoring the odd feeling in his chest. It was quite refreshing. He shook his head, throwing loose water drops off his face.

Erik took a moment and looked down upon himself. He was wearing a loose, white shirt with a tan pull-string strung from the top to just below his pecks. His pants were brown, and he was wearing no shoes. He was quite comfortable.

Erik looked back down at the water. He watched his reflection, and his reflection watched him. He blinked. His reflection blinked. He waved. His reflection waved. He laughed.

His reflection did not laugh back.

This frightened Erik. He jumped up, looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed this absurd event. Erik looked back down at the water. No reflection looked back up at him. He backed away, a bit uneasy. Deciding to ignore it all, Erik moved on, walking beside this curious river.

As he went along, Erik observed the sky. No clouds hid the brilliant blue from his view. Only treetops corrupted the sight, and even they were quite a sight to look at.

Birds chirped.

Animals danced.

Not a single thing seemed out of place.

Except for his lack of reflection in the water.

But Erik chose to ignore this. How could he ruin this beautiful day with some silly unearthly event? Preposterous. Nothing would stand in his way! For today, he would be at peace at last, as he would be forever. What could ruin this day?Not some foolish uneasy thoughts, that's for sure.

Erik began to hum a small tune under his breath. He couldn't remember where he had heard it from, nor could he think of all of the phrases. Soon, he was singing to the heavens, driving the phrases to their limits with emotion; emotion that Erik was unsure of where it came from.

_I've heard there was a secret chord__  
><em>_That David played, and it pleased the Lord__  
><em>_But you don't really care for music, do you?__  
><em>_It goes like this__  
><em>_The fourth, the fifth__  
><em>_The minor fall, the major lift__  
><em>_The baffled king composing Hallelujah__  
><em>  
><em>Hallelujah, Hallelujah<em>_  
><em>_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

The song reminded him of something, or perhaps someone, but he couldn't quite place it. He moved on through the forest, walking through various trees. Erik slowly began to move away from the odd river, getting deeper and deeper into the forest.

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof__  
><em>_You saw her bathing on the roof__  
><em>_Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you__  
><em>_She tied you to a kitchen chair__  
><em>_She broke your throne, and she cut your hair__  
><em>_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

He felt it. His heart began to pound, his heart began to _scream_. He understood. Erik cried out the next few words with an undying passion,

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

Erik began to pant a little. He leaned against a tree, looking around him. Nothing seemed familiar, and yet, he seemed to know where he was going. Erik's feet walked on without his knowledge. He shrugged it off, and continued to sing his song with unyielding passion.

_Baby I have been here before__  
><em>_I know this room, I've walked this floor__  
><em>_I used to live alone before I knew you.__  
><em>_I've seen your flag on the marble arch__  
><em>_Love is not a victory march__  
><em>_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah__  
><em>_Hallelujah, Hallelujah__  
><em>

A few twigs snapped under his feet. Animals began to stare at him. A few deer stopped munching on the grass and peered over to this curious new creature. Squirrels stopped sprinting through the treetops, birds stopped singing. Everything was in awe at this new figure, and this spectacular sound emitting from it. Erik ignored it all, concentrating on his destination.

_Maybe there's a God above__  
><em>_But all I've ever learned from love__  
><em>_Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you__  
><em>_It's not a cry you can hear at night__  
><em>_It's not somebody who has seen the light__  
><em>_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah__  
><em>_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

The trees began to thin. Erik noticed a small light emitting from a clearing in the distance. He picked up his pace, his head throbbing, his heart pounding. His desire to get there, to finally reach _it_, to be in the place he knew he should be, was overwhelming.

_You say I took the name in vain__  
><em>_I don't even know the name__  
><em>_But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?__  
><em>_There's a blaze of light in every word__  
><em>_It doesn't matter which you heard__  
><em>_The holy or the broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah__  
><em>_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

He paused at the edge of the tree line. There was a large open field standing before him. He saw a small figure standing in the middle of the clearing. His heart ached. It wore a white cape and hood, the hood covering the back of their head. But he knew who it was. His heart told him so. Erik moved forward, continuing his song, singing a bit softer as he approached the figure.

_I did my best, it wasn't much__  
><em>_I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch__  
><em>_I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you__  
><em>_And even though it all went wrong__  
><em>_I'll stand before the Lord of Song__  
><em>_With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah_

Erik was standing behind the person. He reached his hand out slowly, singing the rest of the Hallelujahs. Erik rested his hand on their shoulder. He turned them around slowly, wanting to take in the moment…

He almost yelled out in fear.

Nothing was there.

The white cape crumpled in his hands. He stood there in shock, holding the material in his hands. What was going on? What happened? Where was the one he was expecting? This was not right… Something was wrong…

Erik looked up. A man covered in black was standing where the one he was expecting should be. All that was exposed were his eyes… These terrible, terrible eyes.

They were insane.

Erik raised an eyebrow at this man. He was unsure as to why he was here, but it angered him that he was here instead of the one he expected. Erik opened his mouth, about to demand an explanation from this thing, when it held up a hand to silence him.

Slowly, the man took out a silver gun, hand still raised to Erik. He slowly loaded the gun in front of him, not taking his eyes off of him.

Erik watched him load the gun in silence. He knew what he was planning. For some reason, he did not care now that the one he was expecting was not here.

His heart began to pound for an entirely different reason.

The man raised the gun to Erik, aiming directly between his eyes. They stared at each other, both waiting for the other to make a move.

_Bang_.

Erik did not move. He felt warm fluid flowing down his nose, across his cheek, and off of his chin. It got heavier and heavier without any sign of stopping…. But he did not care. Nothing mattered now.

Erik turned from the man in disgust. He staggered forward, trying to get away from its cruelty. He _should have known, should have known, should have known_…

People… Evil… Horrible…

Flashes of his past flew before his eyes. People taunting him, mocking him… All of the hate in the world seemed to swarm his vision. It was disgusting to him.

He fell backwards to the ground. Erik stared up to the blue sky.

Oh, it was _perfect_.

Untouched by humanity.

If only everything was like this perfect, perfect place, Erik wondered. Imagine what the world would be like.

Clouds began to form in the sky. They swirled around, forming different shapes, until finally, they formed a woman. She smiled down at him warmly.

It was the one he was waiting for.

She laughed at him, waving from the safety above. The woman called to Erik, asking him to come to her.

Oh, how he wanted to. He just couldn't get up.

Suddenly, her form changed. It twirled and twirled and suddenly, the sky turned red.

An evil laugh came from the depths of the Earth. The clouds turned black, and formed into the shape of the Devil.

It stared down at him, mocking him from above. It laughed and laughed at him.

Erik desperately wanted the other person back. He tried to close his eyes to this hideous sight but found he could not. His eyes refused to obey him.

_Kill it, kill it, kill it._

Anger swarmed within him. _Why, why_? What had he done?

_Disgusting_.

Anguish filled his heart. Where was the woman? He wanted her back. She cheered him up.

_Look at it… Hahahaha!_

Tears swarmed his eyes. He wanted to die. _Anything_ but live through this.

But… He _was_ dying, Erik realized. His heart had began to slow. His eyes began to close.

Slowly, very slowly, Erik's heart stopped.

He felt no fear. He embraced this darkness, this safety... this prison.

But he heard the mocking, the teasing, the hisses and screams; he witnessed the cruelty and the evil, the disgusting thing he considered humanity until the very end.

He died there, lying in his perfect little spot in the world.

Alone.

* * *

><p>A man stood in a dark room. He was looking at everything, and yet, he looked at nothing. Above him was nothing; below, simply darkness. He felt the world around him, and yet, he comprehended none of it. The man couldn't even see himself in this gloom. He was invisible, unaware, unseen.<p>

A small table appeared in front of him. It was brown, made of wood. Simple. The figure watched it curiously. He moved towards it slowly, slightly cautious of this new object in his desolate world.

The man approached it. Soon he found himself staring at the wooden surface. Slowly, an object began to form on the table. Piece by piece, a silver gun came into view. It was not unfamiliar to him. Memories began to swarm his brain. He reached for the gun.

_Women crying, men yelling, children screaming_… All of it filled his ears. The man yelled out in anguish, grabbing his ears, trying to keep out the noise. He collapsed to the ground in pain, all of the noise ringing in his ears.

_Mercy, mercy!_

Silence.

He gasped, the noise suddenly gone. The figure grabbed the small table and pulled himself up. He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the terrible sounds. Another attempt was made for the gun. The screams came back. He grit his teeth, pushing on through the agonizingly horrid noise.

The man grabbed the gun, wrapping his unseen fingers around it's frame.

Silence. Eerie silence.

The man looked around the room. Still, he saw nothing. Looking back to the table, two small sparkles began to twinkle. The man raised an eyebrow. What on Earth was going on?

Slowly, the two sparkles took form. They began to glow brighter and brighter, until they burned with light. The man shielded his eyes; it was like staring into the sun.

With a flash, the light dimmed.

He looked back to the table. Two piles of glowing dust had formed, each in a neat little pile right next to the other. The man gazed at them for a moment. Did he want to touch them, to disturb them? Curiosity took over. He clutched the gun a bit tighter, leaned over, and blew the glowing dust into the darkness.

Two rings remained; one black, one white.

The gun began to vibrate. He looked down at it, a bit uneasy. He remembered something, some kind of distant truth…

_Bang. Bang._

Shots echoed in his mind. The man blinked a few times, realization flowing through his brain. He quickly opened the gun, revealing the bullets.

Only one of them was missing.

His eyes widened

The gun turned to dust in his hand.

The room began to twirl. Wind picked up, dirt and soot began to form a tornado around him and the table. The rings began to jump up and down, banging and hitting the hard surface. A large vibrating sound filled his ears; he could hear the screams again, yelling out in pain. The man grabbed his head, begging it to stop,

To stop…

To stop…

Anger rose within him. WHY would they not STOP when he WANTED them too? He WANTED them to be SILENT. _NOW_.

The man quickly fixed the gun; he began to shoot it wildly into the tornado around him, screaming at the noise. The last bullet cut through the air around him.

The noise stopped.

The tornado vanished.

Only one ring remained. The man looked at it, examining the color. He picked it up, rolling it over his palm carefully.

Regret… Shame…

The floor opened up beneath him.

He fell, loosing grip of the gun and the ring. They began to fly around him as he fell, and fell, and fell…

The man tried to grab the ring, but couldn't. It slowly flew farther and farther away.

And he kept falling.

And falling.

And falling.

Into nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>Well? What did you think of this odd little chapter of mine? Again, it's a one time thing (unless you want another one, I mean, I guess I could) since I'm changing my updating times. It's just a bit of a hold over until the next chapter which I PROMISE WILL BE EPIC. PINKY PROMISE. Yeah.<strong>

**Love you all! I'm outtie. **


	14. A Guiding Light

**HEEYYYYYYY . Didn't think I was gonna make it, did you? Huh? Huh? Yeah, I know. No faith in my deadlines. It's okay; I was considering just posting this tomorrow, but then I was like, NO. I AM DOING THIS. NOW. And so I did. If I fail my test tomorrow, you are all to blame. All of you.**

**But no lies, I had fun writing this chapter. The end... Ah! I love the end. I was planning on it being later on what happens, but whatever, I decided to slap it in now! Yay! Hope you like it!**

**Poeko_:_****** **Thanks! I have a thing for mysterious stuff too :P And I guess you'll have to wait and see... Mwauhahahahahaa.. **

**cHCkrdFLatZ: HMMMMMM... Not answering that! :P Auehehehehehehehehe I love writing those chapters. Makes everyone confused and shit, and then, it's like, OOHHHHH I GET IT.**

**13sapphire13: Oh, you shall understand in time... You shall understand.**

**PanicAtTheEpicness: :D is all I have to say. I can't say anything about the chapter because I'll give it awayyyyy! Just think about it, and keep the last chapter in mind always forever and ever.**

**Maxine I love Erik****: I'm glad you are confused. Everyone else is, haha! And everyone seems to be blaming Doug! Hehehehe, I'm not saying anything about it though. And o.O at Erik. **

**RedDeathLvr: Thank you! You shall see if it is a nice outcome... For the most part, I have it all written down in my head, but I wont say if thats a good or bad thing yet xD**

**SammiRichGurl: NOOOOO. I promise I'll make it good ;_;**

* * *

><p><em>Open your eyes, young little fool<em>

_**Open your eyes, I'm fighting your duel**_

_Look at the world, imagine it crumble._

_**Look at the world, watch it all tumble. **_

_Leave me in peace, run astray._

_**Leave me in peace, flee away.**_

_Why can't you see, there's nothing to do._

_**Why can't you see, there's something's askew .**_

_Confused man, please come and think less._

_**Confused man, now's the time to aggress .**_

Doug stalked her on the rooftops.

She was laughing and smiling with _him_. That _disgusting_, _hideous_ excuse for a life. Why was she with _him_? What did she see in _him_? Confusion tore through his senses, blinding him in rage. How could she? They were sitting there, drinking some kind of hot beverage, laughing over some movie he could not see.

What lies. What horrible lies; all of it… Lie, lie, LIE!

He knew this would happen. Doug had to do something. He wasn't sure that it would have to come down to this, but action was required immediately. Drastic times called for drastic measures; he needed to move his plans up.

Doug rose from his kneeling position on the rooftop. It sat across the street from several small houses; however, the one he was concentrated on was directly in front of him. He brushed some pebbles off of his black baggy pants and red hoodie, practically fuming with rage at the situation before him. Why did he not see this coming? Well, of course he saw it coming. But so soon? Had it not been just a day? Was that all it took for her to lose all sanity within her? He shook his head in shame for his friend. She was weak, weak, _weak_…

He tore down the emergency fire escape route on the side of the building. After dropping the last few feet to the ground, Doug landed with a large _thud_ onto the pavement. After glancing around to make sure nobody was in sight, he slipped through the shadows to the house he had been watching. Moments later, Doug found himself slamming his fist against the door, waiting impatiently on the front steps, expecting someone to come to him.

Suddenly, Doug realized he had no idea what he was going to say. What did one say in this situation?

The door opened.

"Doug?" Aimee hissed, "What the fuck are you doing here?" she cried, stepping out onto the steps with him and shutting the door behind her. Aimee wore pink pajama pants, blue slippers, and a white t-shirt. Her hair was un a messy bun, bits of stray pieces caressing her face.

"What do _you_ think YOU are doing in _THERE_?" he hissed back, "I saw you two! That's not work at all!"

"You're watching us?" she cried, eyes widening, "Why on earth would you do that?"

"To make sure you are alright, obviously!" he yelled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "There is evil in there!"

Aimee slammed her palm to her forehead, outraged, "Doug. Get the fuck out of here. Drew and I are watching the Phantom of the Opera to re-familiarize with it! There is no evil going on!"

"That's fucking bullshit, Aimee! You've watched that movie at least ten thousand times! He's drawing you in!"

"He hasn't watched the movie in a while, first of all. And drawing me into what? We're watching a _movie_, Doug! Get out of here!"

"What a load of-"

"DOUG! I… Oh my god! Just leave!" she yelled, opening the door. Aimee turned to his shocked expression, "You need to get out of whatever state of mind you are in Doug. You're going insane. The Doug I knew would never have made a move like this. Ever." She said, shaking her head as she shut the door behind her.

Doug was stunned. How could she treat him like that? All he was doing was looking out for her. She should not be trusting that two-faced ass-wipe Drew. He was suspicious. Far too suspicious.

Doug began to walk away, hands shoved into his pockets, feeling slightly dejected.

He stared at the ground as he walked, his mind wandering. Doug care where his feet were taking him; as long as it was away from Aimee. He would need time before he was able to forgive her for such a betrayal. After all, she had acted completely out of line; a dramatic thank you, kissing of the feet, and perhaps even begging him to lead her off away from such a freak would have been sufficient.

Doug's actions were practically heroic, after all. He remembered it clearly; he flew down from the rooftops, having seen his dearest friend in danger. After being unable to break down the door, Doug managed to contain his heroism until Aimee herself broke free from the evil clutches of Drew. But… Drew was to strong… He pulled her back in… Doug had to save her!

But… Wait. Abigail needed to be rescued as well. Who to save first?

Abigail, of course. His damsel was in distress! Suddenly, Doug was overcome with a sense of urgency. He grabbed at his hair, trying to contain his master plan.

We must wait, he reminded himself; we must wait until the day and then we will win and win and be happy.

But… Perhaps he could help Aimee then? Doug whirled around on his feet, staring off at the direction he had been walking from. A second attempt at saving this princess?

No, no, not tonight. This superhero needed a break from all of this rescuing.

Doug looked up. The stars greeted him. He laughed at them and their attempts at harming him. Look at them, so far away! Nothing could hurt him!

Doug felt invincible. He grabbed at his muscles, feeling them, checking to make sure they were not breaking through his shirt yet. With a sigh of relief, he made note that they were in fact still hidden from view. What an amazing shirt! It was as if this hoodie had been crafted by the gods to protect his identity from mundane beings.

Doug walked on, a slight bounce in his step.

Where was he going?

Quick! He had to check his built in navigation system. Doug froze, throwing both hands in front of him and bending over slightly. He stood there for a good ten seconds, slowly reaching a hand up to the side of his head.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

_Abigail's house, one mile._ Came a woman's voice. Doug roared with laughter at this, and continued on. He needed to remind himself to change the voice on his inter-navigation system. Perhaps one of an alien, or maybe of the sun? The sun had such a pretty voice.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. Oh, everything was pretty to Doug.

Except Aimee. Oh, how he hated Aimee. He clenched and unclenched his hands, continuing his journey. Aimee was mean to Doug. Doug did not like that.

He took no notice of the fact that there was nobody on the streets, or the fact that it was nearly one in the morning.

Doug felt giddy and light. Pouncing about in the dark and empty streets, he claimed the world as his playground. He jumped on top of cars, yelled his name to the sky, proclaiming his own gospel to this small little world. Doug bellowed out these seemingly holy words, pounding his chest and pulling his hair.

"THE WORLD IS A BUCKET, FILLED WITH WATER; BUT OH, IS IT HALF FULL OR HALF FULL? OH THE GODS, BY GOD, AND THEIR GODLIKE WISDOM, COMMAND ME NOT! I AM THE GODS, BEHOLD YOUR MAKERRRRRRR! COME TO ME! RISE, PEASANTS!"

"SHUT UP!" yelled a man in the distance.

Doug fell off of the car in shock, slamming into the pavement. Yelling in pain, he heard a window slam shut.

Foolish one, Doug spat. All of them. Nobody understands…

He moved on.

A couple minutes later, Doug found himself in front of Abigail's house. Or old house, he guessed. It's not like she was using it any longer. Perhaps he would sleep there tonight. Doug walked up to the door.

Music came from inside.

He froze for a moment, stunned. Pressing his ear against the door, Doug listened to the piano playing. It was beautiful; so beautiful, it brought tears to his eyes. He knew only one person who could play so well. Suddenly, excitement and joy filled his heart. Abigail was inside! It was her, his love!

Doug grabbed the door knob, but found it locked after several failed attempts at opening the door. The music stopped. He heard shuffling inside.

"Abigail? It's me!" he yelled quickly, afraid she was leaving him, "Wait!" he banged at the door, "Let me in!"

Silence.

Doug cursed to himself, searching for the key she left outside. It was gone. Didn't he have another key? Doug searched around his pockets until he located a key chain. After finding her key, he quickly unlocked the door, bursting inside.

The house was quiet.

To quiet.

No lights were on; but that was probably because the electricity bill hadn't been paid in god knows how long.

Doug crept through the hallway, slowly moving towards the piano. Nobody was there, but the music sheets were out, and the top opened. Moving closer, he felt the seat; it was warm. Someone had been playing. Doug narrowed his eyes. Who was here? He slowly turned around, eyes searching the dark room.

Doug began to move. A small creek echoed through the house on each step. He knew someone, or something, was here. It was only a matter of time before he found it.

After all, Doug was a detective. Memories of a thousand cases flew through his mind. Murders, kidnappings; you name it, he did it. He only wished he had his trench coat and hat.

Doug giggled madly.

Erik slowly closed Abigail's bedroom door behind him. He turned around, Abigail's sleeping form meeting his eye. Ignoring the small twinge in his chest, he silently glided over to her, and, cursing to himself, gently shook her awake.

"Hmm-" Abigail started.

Erik pressed his palm against her mouth. Abigail's dead eyes shot open, but he knew it did nothing to help her see her invisible enemy. She grabbed at his hand, clawing at it, struggling to free herself from his steel grip. It was almost cute. Erik leaned down and placed a small kiss on her forehead. Abigail instantly relaxed, and dropped her hands to her stomach.

"Abigail," Erik whispered into her ear, "We have a rather unwelcome guest."

A thud came from a distant room.

Abigail attempted to speak, but Erik pressed his hand down a bit harder, muffling her words.

"We must leave now. Do not speak; come close to me, my little pianist." He breathed, releasing her mouth and opening his arms to her. Abigail obeyed, keeping her mouth shut and sliding into his form. Erik lifted her from the bed, one arm around her back, the other hooked under her legs, and stood up.

Abigail snaked her arms around his neck as he made his way over to the window. With some difficulty, he managed to pry the window open. It made a small screech as it slid up. Erik froze, listening.

Footsteps began to come closer. Far too close for comfort. Erik's eyes whizzed around the room; he spotted her opened closet. He dove inside, not even bothering to close the door behind them. It was rather large; he pulled the two of them close to a dark corner and covered them with a blanket and some scattered clothes. Abigail clung to him; he hugged her to him, feeling her shake slightly.

Erik kept the blanket just below his eyes, allowing himself to see everything going on in the room. After a few moments, the doorknob to the bedroom turned very, very slowly. So slowly that Erik raised a confused eyebrow. Then, with a loud yell, the door burst open to reveal a man. Shocked, Erik realized that it was Abigail's little friend who had tried to steal her away from him. A bit of anger began to swell inside of his chest.

This anger quickly transformed into utter amusement. The man appeared to be in some other reality. First, he stood at the doorframe for a moment, unable to comprehend the fact that there was nobody there to greet him. Then, realizing the room was empty, the man (what was his name? Dan? Don? Donald? Erik couldn't remember) began to comically walk about the room, trying to take in everything at once. He danced through the room, picking up random objects, carrying them around, and putting them in random places; he would sniff, touch, lick, and try to listen to things; the man even cried out to the Gods, asking them if they were testing him or some odd thing of that nature. Erik wanted to laugh, but feared the result should he comply with these urges.

"What's going on?" Abigail breathed so quietly, that even Erik almost did not hear her.

"Later." He whispered back, gently stroking her leg. Abigail buried her head into his neck.

After around five minutes of the man's searching, he finally gave up. He walked up to the bed, collapsed, and immediately fell asleep. Snores floated through the room; it was music to Erik's ears.

As quietly as he could, Erik slowly rose, blankets and clothes falling off of the two of them. He stalked towards the room and over to the window. After peeking down and calculating the distance, he silently shifted Abigail so as to tell her she had to climb onto his back. She complied, wiggling around, latching her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders.

Erik went out the window backwards, clutching onto the window pane as he lowered himself as far down as he could. Then, after taking a deep breath, he let go, letting gravity seal their fate.

He quickly absorbed the fall, bending his knees and rolling off to the right.

"Arggghhh!" Abigail cried, momentarily crushed by his weight.

"Shhh!" he hissed, jumping up and sprinting away from the house.

"Wait!" Abigail cried, hitting his shoulder, "We need to go back! I forgot something!"

"What?" Erik cried, coming to a halt, "What is so important?"

"Go back! Now!"

Erik groaned, but quickly jogged back the short distance. Abigail jumped off of his back once they were inside; she crept through the house, Erik directly behind her. He watched her as she picked out books and movies and other things he did not recognize, slip it into a nearby bag, and throw it over her shoulder. She nodded quickly, signaling their retreat.

"Was that really necessary?" Erik hissed at her, "What if he woke up? What then, Abigail? All of these material things; it's disgusting. You didn't need those things."

"Oh, yes I did. You don't have books and things at the Opera House. We needed things for your lessons!" she said happily, running a finger over the titles of the books she had grabbed, "Oh! Look, I have _Frankenstein_! That's such a great book." She commented happily.

Erik sighed. How could she be so carefree? A man had snuck into her home and nearly destroyed them. Why was she not afraid and angry? Why did she not think to ask him why he was there? Perhaps it was a murderer or a thief; why was she not concerned?

"Are you not worried about your home?" Erik asked impatiently.

"No, it'll be fine."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"That is not a proper answer."

"I know."

"Why are you not asking about the man?"

"Why would I want to?"

"Because he was a threat."

"No he wasn't. You were there." Abigail said with a smile. Erik sighed, un-phased by the compliment. She was being foolish.

"Oh, I hope I grabbed the rest of the Harry Potter books!" Abigail cried, searching the bag unsuccessfully.

They made their way back to the Opera House. After drifting back to the small island, Erik pulled the boat ashore as Abigail trudged over to the swan bed.

"Boy, I'm tired." Abigail yawned, stretching her arms out. Erik walked up behind her, taking the bag off her shoulder. He pushed her forward, guiding her to the swan bed. She climbed inside, snuggling under the covers, "Goodnight, Erik." She said sleepily.

"Goodnight." He replied to the already sleeping Abigail. After placing the heavy bag next to the wardrobe, Erik slowly walked over to Abigail, his eyes watching her every move.

Why was this man popping up into their lives? Why was he there? What was his _name_? He knew it was in his mind somewhere; Damon? Drew? Donald? Hmmm… Doug? It sounded right. Doug. Well, this Doug character appeared slightly different from the last time Erik had seen him. He seemed… a little off. Erik wondered what had happened to him, but most of all, he wondered why Doug was searching through Abigail's house at such an hour.

Did he know that they were there? It certainly appeared so. Perhaps he was simply drunk or some other substance was distorting his thought process. But that seemed a bit out of character for someone Abigail would be friends with. Did Erik even know the kind of people Abigail made friends with? He had only met two friends. Did she have more? Should he know about them?

Erik blinked a few times, coming back into reality. He smiled as Abigail snored slightly; it was adorable. Suddenly, he did not want to know what Doug had been doing. All he wanted was to be at peace. He walked over to his organ, pulled out his secret duet, and continued to work on his masterpiece.

Hours later, Erik heard Abigail's small footsteps behind him. He smiled, turning around to see Abigail sneaking up behind him. She continued tip-toeing forward, unaware he knew she was there. When she was about two feet away, she rose her arms in the air, and, just as she was opening her mouth to surprise him, Erik grabbed her waist and stole her into his arms. She yelled out in surprise, but laughed and let him kiss her lips lightly.

"Hi." She said

"Hello." He replied, a sly grin playing at his lips, "Do not sneak up on me."

She blushed, "Oh, I wasn't sneaking up on you."

"Yes you were."

"No I wasn't."

"Then why on Earth did sneak up and raise your arms to the heavens?"

"Oh, I, uh, well…. I was…"

"Attempting to catch the Phantom off guard."

"And failing." She laughed

"Indeed you are." Erik said in agreement, "Go get dressed."

Abigail laughed, and hopped off to change. He watched her go, slightly unwilling to let her leave his presence. Turning back to the organ, Erik continued to work until she returned.

"Erik, I was hoping we could focus on my lesson today." Abigail called from behind him. He turned around, eyes widening slightly at her attire.

She wore a short, pink, flowing spring dress. It was strapless and stopped just above her knee. She was barefoot, and had her hair in a low messy bun.

She looked stunning.

"And can we not be down here today? It's so muggy."

Erik snapped out of his daze, "I would rather not."

"Why?" Abigail asked, picking up the large bag full of books, "I can just feel the gloom surrounding me."

"It is not gloom; it is security."

"Whatever you call it, I don't like it." She said as she walked over to the boat. Abigail stood there expectantly, "Let's go upstairs at least."

"There are people all over the place upstairs preparing it for the cast of the play."

"We can sneak by them."

"No, we can't."

"Oh, come on, Erik."

"Abigail, you must learn to love your home."

Even blind, Abigail sent a death stare from across the island. He raised an eyebrow at her defiant stance. Why was she so stubborn?

"This place is horrid, Erik. How can you live down here?"

"Easily."

She walked over to the piano, throwing the book bag off her shoulder and collapsing into the seat in a huff. Erik walked up behind her, watching her angry form. Abigail pressed a few keys, throwing the notes throughout the room. She sighed, unable to start a song.

"Erik, why do you keep yourself from daylight and sun?"

"I find that is where most people are."

"So you do the opposite of what they do to avoid them?" she asked, pressing another key.

"Yes."

"But why? What's wrong with people?"

"Everything."

"So there's something wrong with me?"

"No, of course not." He said quickly.

"Why? I'm a person. What makes me different?"

"Everything, Abigail."

"But you would have never known that if you did not take the time to get to know me, Erik."

"I suppose not."

"So if I was just someone on the street, you would have made the exact same presumption that you do with everyone else."

Erik began to see where she was going with this, and grew annoyed, "Abigail, you are a special case. Just because I found a jewel in a pile of rocks means nothing. It is still a pile of rocks that is left behind."

"But what if there are more jewels than you think, Erik?" Abigail cried, turning around in the seat, "Why don't you just give me a chance to show you? The world is so much different, Erik!"

"I do not believe you." He replied grimly.

However, very slowly, Erik began to doubt himself. What if he didn't need to hide anymore? No, no. The world was cruel and harsh and evil. Yes, yes; these were safe thoughts.

Abigail jumped up, grabbing his hands, "Take a leap of faith with me, Erik."

"What?" he asked, slightly startled.

Abigail groaned, releasing his hands, pacing back and forth.

"You know, you really annoy me. It's as if you don't even care."

"Care about what?"

Abigail raised an eyebrow, "You don't care about yourself. You don't care about the world. You don't care about _me_, Erik."

His eyes widened, "What do you mean? Of course I care for you."

"You don't care enough to listen to what I have to say. You don't care enough to give me a chance to share my feelings with you. Erik, you won't even give me a chance to live someplace that I actually enjoy."

"Abigail! How many times must we discuss this? I have already made it perfectly clear; it is much more safe down here-"

"I don't _want_ to be safe, Erik!" Abigail yelled, throwing her hands to the air, "I don't want to survive or play it safe! I want to _live_, to take risks; I want to be able to be a _normal person_. I don't want to live in some cave for the rest of my life, afraid that someone is going to come and hurt me! I have already been hurt, and so have you! Get over it! You need to move on, forgive and forget!"

Erik stared at her, stunned. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say to such brutal honesty.

"You have already agreed to stay down here with me."

Abigail rubbed her temple, "Yes, I know."

"So why are you questioning it?"

She looked up at him with sad eyes, "Because I made the decision blindly."

"Do you not wish to stay with me anymore, Abigail? Do you really want to go back to the outside world, abandoning me, leaving me in an eternal twilight?"

"No."

"Because indeed, this is what it is, Abigail!" Erik roared, suddenly fuming, "An everlasting night! And you hate it, don't you? You just loath the idea of being forced to be down here with such a hideous creature like me, don't you? Do not lie to me! All anyone has ever done was make empty promises and deny me of anything _close_ to a normal existence."

"Erik, I-"

"_NO_, Abigail." Erik yelled, storming up to her and grabbing her bare shoulders, "You can't even see this horror that stands before you, this disgusting face that is shielded from your mind by your unseeing eyes! If only you saw what was beyond this mask, if only you could comprehend it! You, just as everyone else has, would flee from me."

Abigail closed her eyes; a single tear fell. Erik did not reach up to brush it away. She shook her head slowly, turning her face up towards him.

Abigail grabbed his mask, tore it from his face, and threw it to the ground. Erik didn't move. Another tear fell. She sniffed, holding back a river.

"You are every bit human to me as I am to you." Abigail cried, "I need not eyes to see this." She reached a hand up, running it over his deformity, "The only true horror you possess is in your heart, and in your mind. I can only pray that I may one day be able to heal you, Erik… But for now…"

Abigail stood on her toes, reached up, and placed a kiss upon his lips.

_No more talk of darkness,_

_Forget these wide eyed fears._

_I'm here, nothing can harm you-_

_My words will warm and calm you._

_Let me be your freedom,_

_Let daylight dry your tears._

_I'm here, with you, beside you;_

_To guard you and to guide you._

Erik's shoulder slumped over, defeated. He was broken, his mind clouded in confusion. A new feeling was swarming over him; he felt a small pang in his chest, and then his head, and, finally, his throat. He sang back to Abigail,

_**Say you love me every waking moment,**_

_**Turn my head with talk of summertime.**_

_**Say you need me with you, now and always.**_

_**Promise me that all you say is true **_

_**That's all I ask**__**of you.**_

Abigail smiled through her tears, holding his face with both hands.

_Let me be your shelter _

_Let me be your light._

_You're safe; no one will find you,_

_Your fears are far behind you._

He truly wanted his fears to be gone. Erik suddenly realized that he wanted to be… Normal? It was odd and alien to him, but somehow, he believed he could do it if Abigail was there.

_**All I want is freedom,**_

_**A world with no more night.**_

_**And you, always beside me,**_

_**To hold me and to hide me.**_

_Then say you'll share with__me one__ l__ove, one lifetime_

_Let me lead you__from your solitude . . ._

_Say you need me__with you__here, beside you . . ._

_Anywhere you go,__let me go too –_

_Erik,__that's all I ask__of you . . ._

Erik drew closer to her comforting form, seeking her warmth. She let him pull her closer to his chest, and allowed his forehead to rest against hers.

_**Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime **_

_**Say the word and I will follow you.**_

She smiled grandly at him, and they both sang the next lines together.

_**Share each day with me,**_

_**Each night,**_

_**Each morning.**_

The two laughed; Erik grabbed Abigail, lifting her up and spinning her around. He placed her back on the ground, stroking her cheek, leaning in close.

_**Say you love me…**_

_You know I do…_

_**Love me, that's all I ask of you!**_

He pulled her into a kiss.

Erik did not let her go.

His heart was pounding, his head throbbing.

But he loved it.

They pulled away; Erik stared into her misty eyes, tears of joy pouring from both of them.

_**Anywhere you go let me go to**_

_**Love me, **_

_**That's all I ask of you…**_

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><p><em><em>**^_^ :D :P :) (^_^)**

**HOW DO YOU LIIIIIKE ITTTTTTTTTTTTTT? What do you want to see more of/less of? What are some things you think I should do in the future? Suggestions, anyone?**

**Love you all! See you Wednesday!**

**OH.**

**But if for some reason I don't make the deadline, CHECK MY PROFILE, because I'll probably have a message explaining why it's a bit late or going to be done a few days later.**

**But for now, PLAN ON WEDNESDAY!**


	15. Calm Before the Storm

**Hey, sorry its late, I said on my profile it would be today rather than yesterday due to an overload of shit going on. Again, if I don't update on Wednesday, check my profile and I will have some sort of reason, and then a definite update day there. I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a bit shorter, but that's because the next chapter is like... SUPER important... -wink- **

**I am a little disappointed in lack of reviews for the last chapter by the way... **

**Panic at the Epicness: Yes, Doug has taken quite a turn for the worse. And I had that ending planned for quite some time! I just was unsure as to where it was going to be put in hehe.**

**PhantomFan01: Hahaha, nobody likes Doug xD**

**13sapphire13: Yes, Erik has quite a thick skull. Someone needs to tell him the truth.**

**RedDeathLvr: Hurr is moar! :D **

**SammiRichGurl: You should be very, very worried about Doug's mental state. I didn't want to make it less than obvious though. I wanted it to be quite clear, and slightly humorous. **

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><p><em>Life is never what it seems to be. When life, for lack of better terms, "sucks", things will always get better. When you hit rock bottom, you have nowhere to go but up towards the heavens. However, the opposite also stays true; whenever you float among the clouds, you always will end up falling over towards the earth. It is a rather vicious cycle with some ups lasting longer than the downs, and vice versa. One can only pray to have their final moments flying with the birds, happy and free.<em>

_To be happy. What a funny expression. People always assume they are happy, but are they really? What does it feel like to be truly, deeply happy? Do we know what it feels like at all? Does this life offer true happiness? Few people have achieved pure happiness._

_Happiness is not a small feeling for a few hours. It's not when you receive an A on a test, or when you get a gift that you have always wanted. It's not when you find a ten dollar bill in your pocket, nor is it when you are doing some activity you enjoy. To be completely and utterly happy, there are several things you must achieve or consider beforehand. _

_First, you must have money. To have money is to not have worry of basic necessities, not only of food, water, and shelter, but of the requirements that this day and age has imposed upon us. This includes, but is not limited to: taxes, bills, small fees. _

_Second, you must be either happily employed or happily retired. If you do not enjoy what you do, you will never be happy, period. _

_Third, you must be in a situation that you desire. If you are living in China and do not like the country, there is no reason to be happy. Move somewhere else. This also refers back to the money aspect of happiness; you must have money in order to move._

_Fourth, you must be in love. _

_This is perhaps the most complicated of all of the requirements, as well as the hardest to attain. Anyone can get money and a job and a proper living situation. Few achieve love. However, let us take a step back and examine this word in order to properly define it._

_An ordinary dictionary's definition of love is the following: _**a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. **

_All of this is true. However, it does not fully explain what love truly is. It is not just a feeling for someone else. It is absolute knowledge, knowledge that many cannot comprehend, that the person that they are with completely and utterly understands them, and they understand that person. Love is not beautiful or calm. Love is an absolute and utter disaster. And yet, it is a wonderful, astonishing disaster. Many envy those who are in love. Those in love envy the "free". _

_Why is this a requirement for happiness then? Why would it be important to be in this painful predicament, to be attached to someone so tightly that you cannot rid yourself of them? _

_A simple answer may be used for this. _

_Love is a miracle. A horrible, horrible miracle. Everyone must go through it's pain and suffering in order to know what true happiness is. You must see the shadows in order to realize how bright the light really is. _

Abigail felt the bright, glaring ball of gas warm her skin. She was on top of the Opera House, basking in the sunlight. She had finally won Erik over.

Today's lesson: learn to love the sun.

Abigail felt Erik's tense body next to hers. He was stiff and uncomfortable, his awkwardness shining almost as brightly as the sun itself.

"It's so hot. I do not like this." Erik moaned.

"It's not hot, its normal temperature. It's only seventy degrees."

"I'm sweating. This is disgusting."

"Well, you've been cooped up in that chilly cave of yours for your entire life, what do you expect? A change in temperature is exactly what you need as your first step towards re-integration."

"Re-integration into what?"

"_Life_."

"Ah, yes. Of course." He said uneasily.

"You'll be fine," Abigail said with a smile, grabbing his hand, "people will love you."

"I don't love me."

"I do."

He didn't respond, but slightly tightened his grip on her hand. Abigail ignored his sweaty palm.

A few minutes passed.

"Why is it so _bright_?"

"It's the _sun_ Erik. It brings warmth and light to us. The sun is essentially a large, flaming ball of gas thousands of miles away."

"Really, now? How is it the wind simply does not blow it away if it is just gas?"

"It's in space. There is no wind in space. Besides, anything that gets close to it would just burn away."

"Why don't we burn away?"

"Because we're too far away from it."

"But we can feel it."

"I know. Earth is at a perfect distance from the Sun so that light and heat are in the best conditions for life to be created."

He questioned things for almost an hour with Abigail patiently answering as many questions as her knowledge could allow. She laughed at his foolish questions, baffled at how much knowledge that Erik had missed while being trapped inside his little hell cave. She realized he would need to be caught up with everything before she could introduce him to society. But how would she even begin to tell people of him? How did one tell the world that an assumed fictional character was not only real, but alive, hundreds of years after he was thought to have lived?

A thought struck her. Was there not going to be people going to the Opera House soon? The workers were practically done with the Opera House, and she knew that Aimee was going to be practicing there. Maybe she could get him to attend the very first play with her? Afterwards, she would bring him out for all to see. Yes, yes! This was a perfect idea.

"Erik, I want to see the play."

"What play?" he asked, confused.

"The Phantom of the Opera, the first play that will be performed in the Opera House. "

"Ah. Yes. Of course…" he said nervously.

"And I want to introduce you to people afterwards."

"What?"

"I know we have a lot to work on, and its it only in like, a month or something, but I think we can get this to work."

"Abigail…"

"Erik, you said yourself that you wanted to come back into reality! Well, here it is. I'm helping you."

She heard him sigh in defeat.

"Very well, Abigail."

Abigail laughed, giddy with excitement. They had so much to do! And oh, so very little time… However, baby steps were required. The list was far too long to tackle all at once. They returned to the inner depths of the Opera House.

Abigail leapt out of the boat and skipped towards the center of the room. She twirled around, unsure of where to begin. Science, literature, math, history, manners, talking habits, clothing, behavior, music… What to do? Abigail clapped her hands together, mentally preparing for the challenge.

Over the next two weeks, nothing but progress was made with Erik. Abigail introduced him to the rest of Disney ("It is physically impossible for a dog to have a hundred and one puppies at the same time.", and Harry Potter ("He DIED? _What_?"). Afterwards, the two watched movies ("Rosebud was the sled?") and read the most famous novels ("Why does Frankenstein's creation not have a name?"). Abigail wanted to read and watch more, but they simply had no time.

She made him listen to the progression of music over the ages ("This is not music. This is sound."), as well as updated his knowledge of science ("The moon is getting _closer_? What madness is this?" "Photosyn-what?"). She told him all of the history she could recall from the 1800s to present time ("People are mindless. Pure idiocy."). Surprisingly enough, his mathematical skills were far beyond her own. Erik seemed to have subconsciously taught himself when he transformed into a mad genius.

About a week into their lessons, the cast of the play began to practice. It took all of Abigail's strength to not march upstairs and find Aimee. She wasn't sure what she would do if she did end up finding her. Their last confrontation was less than cheerful.

But for now, Abigail was happy. She felt cheerful teaching Erik, and she could tell Erik enjoyed learning. Abigail could almost sense his mind growing with knowledge, and she felt that after the two weeks, he would be able to have a logical conversation with someone on the street and not run into a topic he was clueless about. This brought her to behavior lessons.

"_Okay Erik," she said rubbing her hands together, "Pretend I'm a stranger."_

"_Very well." He said, standing a few feet away from her._

"_Let's say I'm walking on the street and accidentally bump into you." She described, walking over to him and bumping her arm against his, "What do you do?"_

"_Ask them why on Earth they would do such a thing."_

"_No, no, it was an accident."_

"_Your point?"_

"_It's polite to let them apologize, and you accept their apology and keep walking."_

"_They just ran into me. I can't simply let them get away with it, Abigail. What if it was intentional? What if they are mocking me?"_

Behavior lessons went far less smoothly than the educational ones. His rough, coarse attitude towards people resulted in an abnormal amount of violent reactions to situations.

"_Someone cuts you in line in the coffee shop."_

"_I murder them."_

"_Stop joking around."_

"_I'm not joking."_

"…"

Abigail realized it would take more than a few days to change his attitude. For now, she would just have to accompany him wherever he went in order to avoid him committing homicide.

After weeks of lessons and practicing, Abigail and Erik found themselves strolling around the town. His arm was wrapped over her shoulders, steadily pulling her closer whenever she moved to far away.

"Abigail, I feel… Odd." Erik stated, turning a corner of the street, heading to an ice cream parlor down the road.

"What do you mean?" she asked casually, the wind blowing her hair in front of the sunglasses she couldn't see. Abigail wore white jeans, a yellow tube top with a black cross necklace. Her sunglasses were a bit larger than necessary, and she knew it. They were white around the edges, and she had a pair of yellow sandals on.

"I'm not sure. I have been happy before, only with you, but I feel more happy than normal. It's odd." He replied. Abigail tried to picture the outfit he had described to her before they snuck out of the busy Opera House: a baby blue long sleeve shirt with blue jeans, and your average brown shoes. He told that today, he hid his face with his normal black hat tilted downwards, as well as a few bandages stuck over the deformities, just in case.

"I'm glad. It's a good odd, Erik."

"I don't know what to make of it."

"Embrace it."

"How?" he asked, pulling out his brand new wallet as they walked into the ice cream parlor. Abigail heard a long line in front of them.

"Live in it. Take it in. Don't push away from it. Are you truly happy?"

"I'm not sure. What does it feel like to be truly happy?"

"I wouldn't know," she admitted, "I've never felt true happiness. I've been happy, but never fully happy. There has always been something off in my life."

"What's wrong now?"

Abigail smiled at him as he pulled her along with the line, "Things just haven't lined up quite yet I suppose. I want to live somewhere else than where we are now, you know? But that's not your fault." She said quickly, sensing his alarm, "You are not ready to move out of there yet. But when you are, I want to get out of this city and go somewhere else."

"Where do you want to go?"

"I'm no t entirely sure. I think I just want to go and explore for a bit outside of the cities. Like, go on a really long outdoor trip. Climb a few mountains. Swim in a few different oceans."

"That would be quite difficult. What flavor do you want?"

"Vanilla. And yeah, I know. But I want you to come with me."

"One Vanilla, one chocolate." Erik said to the man behind the counter, "I wouldn't want to do anything else, Abigail."

Abigail grinned, and he pulled her into a one armed hug. Erik handed her the vanilla cone, and they left the parlor in a comfortable silence, both munching away at their cones.

* * *

><p>Ah, yes, yes, it was all coming together quite nicely.<p>

Soon, soon, it would all be complete.

Time, time, it was all that was needed.

But… Time was running out, yes, running out.

He needed to get the details straight. It was time to get serious.

A couple weeks was all that was left. The time has come to collect and map everything out.

Doug opened his eyes. The room was pitch black, the same room he had been in for the past two weeks. Silently, he rose from his chair, opened the door, and stepped out into the dark hallway. His eyes darted around, searching for an unexpected surprise. He knew something was watching him, waiting for him. But he, oh, he would be ready for them. Doug clenched his fists and went down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Doug passed by a plate of steaming hot chocolate chip cookies, went to the refrigerator, and took out a couple pieces of bread. He chewed them violently, quickly moving towards the garage door. He stepped through, shutting it quickly behind him. Doug swallowed the tough bread, pulled on a string, and a dim light lit up his lair.

Looking at the light hurt his eyes, but Doug ignored it. He walked around the garage with determination, taking inventory. He finished off the bread, ignoring the pain in his stomach. Grabbing an empty cardboard box, Doug began to put items inside. Rope, flashlights, a couple knives, a few pieces of cloth, his combat boots, an entirely black outfit and a crowbar were initially put in, as well as his lock-picking equipment.

Doug walked over to where he hid his gun, checking to make sure it was still there as he did every other night. He lifted it from its case, running a hand over its smooth, silver surface. He smiled manically to himself, knowing exactly what he would do.

Doug pointed the gun at the opposite end of the garage.

He unlocked the safety.

He pulled the trigger, and the gun let out a small _click_, showing him he had no bullets loaded.

"_Boom_." He whispered to nobody.

* * *

><p>Aimee was getting more and more nervous as the weeks went on. She and Drew practiced non-stop, but for some reason, it was never good enough to her. Aimee always saw something wrong with her performance, something was always out of tune, something was always wrong with her dance.<p>

Drew was constantly telling her she was outdoing everyone, but she did not believe him. To fill the role of Christine was huge, and she knew it. No matter how well people told her she was doing, she would need to work harder and harder as they drew closer to the first performance.

They had begun to perform at the actual Opera House. Aimee had to admit, it was rather nerve racking. Whenever she was not concentrating on her work, she was thinking of Abigail and the Phantom. She knew that they were below them, and she knew that _they_ knew that she was here. Why did they not approach her yet? It was confusing to her, but at the same time, she was grateful. The last thing she needed was for Abigail to come upstairs and cause a scene, as cruel as that may sound.

"Aimee! From the top!" called Drew from the stage.

"Alright!" Aimee called back, shaking the thought away. They were practicing the scene where Christine rips the mask from the Phantom's face.

Aimee rushed back out, passed Drew grinning at her from his place at the fake organ, and went back down on the swan bed. She shut her eyes, gave a thumbs up, and the music began to play.

She slowly woke up, looked around, and pretended to contemplate her surroundings.

_I remember there was mist__  
><em>_swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake__  
><em>_There were candles all around,__  
><em>_and on the lake there was a boat,__  
><em>_and in the boat there was a man_

She walked towards Drew, sitting at the organ, pretending to be busy with something. She sang, her hand slowly reaching up to a pretend mask upon Drew's face.

_Who was that shape in the shadows?__  
><em>_Whose is the face in the mask?_

Aimee grabbed at the pretend mask, and threw the invisible object away. She screamed, Drew jumped up, and roared his lines.

_**Damn you!**__**  
><strong>__**You little prying Pandora!**__**  
><strong>__**You little demon**__**  
><strong>__**Is this what you wanted to see?**_

Drew thrust a finger towards his perfect face.

___**Curse you!**__**  
><strong>__**You little lying Delilah!**__**  
><strong>__**You little viper**__**  
><strong>__**Now you cannot ever be free!**_

He fell over in fake anguish, slamming his fist against the ground. Aimee slowly crawled away from him, giving off an air of fear.__

___**Damn you...**__**  
><strong>__**Curse you...**_

Drew looked up at her, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek.__

___**Stranger than you dreamt it**__**  
><strong>__**Can you even dare to look**__**  
><strong>__**or bare to think of me:**__**  
><strong>__**this loathsome gargoyle, who burns in hell,**__**  
><strong>__**but secretly yearns for heaven,**__**  
><strong>__**secretly... secretly...**__**  
><strong>__**Christine...**_

He began to crawl towards her, reaching for her.

___**Fear can turn to love - you'll learn to see**__**  
><strong>__**to find the man behind the monster:**__**  
><strong>__**this repulsive carcass, who seems a beast**__**  
><strong>__**but secretly dreams of beauty,**__**  
><strong>__**secretly... secretly...**__**  
><strong>__**Oh, Christine...**_

Aimee shook her head at him, and he bowed his head in shame. After a moment, he jumped up, pulling her up forcefully with him.__

___**Come, we must return**__**  
><strong>__**Those two fools Who run my**__**  
><strong>__**theater will be missing you.**_

"Good, good." Came a voice from the audience. Aimee looked over to the man, the director. He was sitting among other crew and cast watching. People clapped politely for a second at the scene they had watched five times in a row.

"Well, we can move on. Just remember, Drew, more pain. This is a vital moment."

"Yes, sir." Drew said, giving him a fake salute. Aimee giggled. Drew wagged his eyebrows at her.

They had become quite close over the past few weeks. She had not seen Doug at all, so she spent most of her time with Drew these days. The last episode with Doug had left something of a sore spot on their relationship, and Aimee was not going to apologize. It was not her fault that after all she had done for Doug, he turned around and did something so rash to her.

The two of them walked backstage, "The show is coming up next week. You excited?" Drew asked.

"Yeah, I am. Sort of nervous too though." She said honestly.

"Don't be, you're amazing." Drew said.

Aimee rolled her eyes.

"Well, dress rehearsals start tomorrow. So it's time to get serious."

"You haven't been already?"

"Oh, no, I have!" she said quickly, "But just, more serious? I don't know. All I know is that the big day is coming up. I'm just worried about what might happen."

"Why are you so worried? You're like, a pro."

"I guess I'm just worried that Doug might show up and ruin it. Or other people." Aimee admitted.

"Like who?"

"Oh, you don't know them.."

"Well, if Doug and these other people are really your friends, they will be in the audience cheering you on."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Drew laughed, "Oh, let's not worry about this now. Keep your head in the game, Aimee. Don't freak out about something that's not going to happen. Let's go practice."

"Alright."

They went off to a secluded corner, and began to practice. Aimee still could not shake the off feeling she had about opening night.

Was her subconscious telling her that something was going to happen? What could happen? All that was going on was the play.

Right?

And nothing would go wrong with the play. It was perfectly organized and practiced. They had already done the play fully three times, each one getting better than the last.

Still…

She knew something was going to go wrong.

* * *

><p><strong>Another in between chapter, next chapter will be extremely important. Can you guess what its gonna be? :P<strong>

**REVIEW. Last chapter's reviews were a lot less than what I have been getting. I want moar! I AM GREEDY.**


	16. Blind Bullet

**HELLO ALL. An update on a Wednesday, as promised. Please, don't kill me. You'll know why when you read the chapter. **

__**SilverJackel-V: The interwebs do not like my story D: And thank you! I enjoy humor :D**

**SammiRichGurl: WAAAHHH! I KNOW :D And every time I type your username, I always wonder if you're actually rich or not. Or if your name is Sammi.**

**TheRabidWriter: ITS OKAY I GUESS. I mean, I guess I can forgive you. I guess. And thanks :P**

**PanicAtTheEpicness: Wow, I can't believe that I inspired you. Good luck! I hope you do really well! And by the way, I'm really, really sorry about this chapter if you are getting like hyperventilation about cliff hangers... **

**TheIdesofMarch: I actually explained it in a past chapter... I forget which on, but look back and he explains it in a story he tells.**

**13sapphire13: Oh gawd. Uh, well... Let's say he doesn't back off very much.**

**RedDeathLvr: Creepy Doug is creepy. Auehehehehee**

**goodie58: Hahaha... Ha... Ha. What? Lolz**

* * *

><p><em>I don't like the steps I took<em>

_To get to look into your deepest feelings_

_But I don't like the place I'm in_

_Head space within the hardwood and the ceiling_

'_Cause if I'm restless then why do I_

_I want nothing but to rest my soul?_

_And I don't get this and I know why_

_You see some things are just beyond control_

_And I feel fine_

_But I know the same does not apply to you_

_I know the same does not apply to you_

_So I guess that I'll curl up and die, too_

_Clinging to the remnants of perfection_

_Like most do after they break it_

_Not knowing which directions the correct one_

_Do I discard or remake it?_

'_Cause if I don't know then I don't know_

_But I may know someone who knows me more than I_

_And if I somehow could rest this soul_

_Maybe control can find it's way back to my life_

_And I feel fine_

_But I know the same does not apply to you_

_Yeah, I know the same does not apply to you_

_So I guess that I'll curl up and die, too._

_Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you_

_Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you_

_Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you_

_Yeah, I'll curl up with you, my baby_

_Yeah, my darling until I die with you_

_Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you_

**-****Curl up and Die****, Relient K**

"Erik, do you believe in heaven?" Abigail asked.

Erik paused, eyes locked on his page from the book he was reading. He felt Abigail squirm slightly from her position in his lap, realizing that the question may have been a bit too personal. He frowned, looking down at his little pianist. Erik had never considered the question before. He had been to hell, that he was almost certain. However, did that mean that there was a heaven? Shutting his book, he laid it on the ground beside him, and wrapped his arms around Abigail's small form.

"I have never considered it before." He replied honestly.

"Well, consider it now." She said.

Erik shrugged, knowing Abigail would feel the motion, her back pressed against his chest. Abigail twisted and squirmed until she sat facing Erik, her legs wrapping around his waist and her arms around his neck.

Her misty eyes locked with his; how she was able to do it, Erik was still unsure. He searched her face, finding a serious and hopeless feeling.

"What's wrong?" he asked, confused.

"I want to believe in heaven, but I can't if you do not belong in it."

This shocked Erik. How could she be thinking of these things? He shook his head, "Abigail, I cannot die. Why think of this? Now, of all times? You should be busy worrying about what you will be wearing tomorrow."

"The play can wait, Erik." She said, smoothing back his hair, "I've been thinking about this for awhile now. What happens when you _do_ die?"

"How are you sure that will ever happen?"

"There is something different about you now."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You… feel different. I don't know how to describe it. You're softer. A bit more… I don't know. Warm."

Erik glanced over at a mirror. He took a long look at himself. Even from this distance, he had to admit, he did look healthier. His skin looked less pale. He had always avoided looking in the mirror, and what would have probably been a more gradual change looked more drastic and sudden. Erik wanted to laugh.

"Well, I do look just as dashing as before." He said sarcastically, rubbing at his deformities. Erik had not worn the mask on the island for awhile.

Abigail turned his face back towards her, and placed a small kiss on his lips. Just as she was about to pull away, Erik grabbed the back of her head, trapping her there. He felt her smile, and, taking this as a good sign, he deepened the kiss.

He loved kissing Abigail. It made his heart race. Over the past few weeks, Erik had slowly moved further and further with Abigail. While most of their time had been spent with furthering his education, he made sure that they both increased their knowledge of each other.

Physically, to be specific.

They were both quite awkward, neither of them having much practice before hand. Abigail had never kissed someone, let alone done much else. Erik had locked himself away for hundreds of years. The last thing on his mind was physical education. So, things had taken off quite slowly.

Of course, they had the kissing thing down to an art by the first week after they had shared their first. However, that quickly grew boring, and soon Erik was exploring different things to do with this new _willing_ female. Abigail had to explain the "bases" to him. In fact, he had no idea what they even were when the conversation had even come up.

"_You know, this whole first base thing, it's going to need to change." Abigail said out of the blue._

_Erik looked up at her from the other side of the table. He was forcing himself to eat an apple, and she had been happily munching away at a bowl of cereal._

"_What?" he asked._

"_First base. We are stuck there." She said clearly._

"_Base? First?"_

"_You don't know the bases?" she asked, quite stunned._

"_No." Erik replied bluntly._

"_Well," Abigail said, putting down her spoon and folding her hands, "It's basically the different levels of… Uh, intimacy. It's like the different bases in baseball." _

"_Oh." He said, thankful Abigail could not see his face growing the color of his apple._

"_Yeah… Well, first base is like, kissing and stuff… Second… Uh, heavy petting. Third." She sat there for a moment, deep in thought, "How about you just look this up on your own."_

_So he did. Once Abigail was asleep, he slipped off outside and went to the only place he knew that could get him information. The library. Erik used a public computer, and after much difficulty, he had found what she meant._

_He deleted the browsing history._

After gaining knowledge, they had a bit more fun with each other. However, while exploring all of the "bases", neither of them had suggested the "home run". Erik wasn't exactly sure why.

But enough of that. Abigail had broken the kiss, and her face was serious again.

"Do you?" she repeated

"Do I what?"

"Believe in heaven." She said simply.

Erik frowned, rubbing her back slowly, unsure of how to respond.

"Well," he said, "I suppose there is a possibility that there _is_ a world out there where those deserving go to live out the rest of eternity. Whether or not it is heaven, I do not know."

Abigail frowned in concentration, "Do you think that wherever the place is, or whatever the place is, I'll be able to go there?"

"Without a doubt." He replied, grabbing her hands and squeezing them.

"Will you be there too?"

He did not reply.

Abigail's lower lip quivered. Erik sighed and brushed back a bit of her hair. If this was anyone else, he would have murdered them by now for annoying him. But that was against his manners now, right?

"Abigail, really, why are you bringing this up? This is so unlike you."

"I don't know. I…. Oh, I just feel like… I don't know." She sighed, "I feel like we should talk about this before you're revealed tomorrow. I mean, you never know what could happen."

"I see."

He watched her for a moment, realizing the truth behind this. Neither of them knew what would happen once she started introducing him to people as a long lost phantom that lived under the opera house. Would they deem Abigail and him mad? Would they arrest them? Throw them in a loony bin? Or perhaps they would be shunned, ignored by society? He shuddered at the thought of being even more secluded than he already was. He sighed.

"Abigail… I believe that whatever happens, you will be safe and peaceful. Whether or not I am with you does not matter."

"I _want_ it to matter." She said, "I _won't_ be safe or happy or peaceful without you."

"Why?"

"Because I _love_ you." She sniffed.

Erik watched a tear slide down her cheek. He wiped it away slowly, tilting her cheek up, "How can you love a beast like me?"

"You are no beast to me." She said grabbing at his shirt, "You have changed so much. We are so alike."

"I have changed because you transformed me."

"You would never have changed if you did not want to."

He could not deny it.

"Abigail?" he asked

"Yes?" she replied

"I have something written. A song. I started writing it when you first came here. I want you to hear it."

"Okay." She said with a small smile.

"There is only one problem." He said, lifting her to her feet, "It's a duet."

"Who will play the other part?"

"You will. Tomorrow. After the play. I will teach you your part today, and we will play it tomorrow together."

Abigail's face lit up at the idea of new music, "Alright!" she cheered, rushing over to the piano.

Erik chuckled at the sight. She was so innocent, so full of life. Abigail was perfect. He walked up behind her, and began to teach her the notes.

* * *

><p>Abigail brushed a hand over the dress. She desperately wanted to be able to truly see it rather than picture it in her mind. Instead, she closed her eyes to the world, and began to paint a picture. The dress was a bright red, strapless, and went down to her ankles. It had overlapping red layers with a black edge to them. At the bottom, there was black lace underneath the red fabric. Abigail smiled, knowing what a big hit it would make tonight. The Opera House would demand nothing less from the Phantom's date.<p>

She slipped it on, careful not to wake Erik sleeping beside her. Abigail wanted Erik to wake up to her wearing it. After slipping on a pair of simple black heels, she quietly _clicked_ her way over to where she knew a mirror was. Abigail sighed, gazing into the night, knowing she was staring at herself. Her hair was done in a gentle yet messy bun behind her. Adjusting the dress slightly, she heard movement from the swan bed behind her.

Turning around, Abigail heard a sharp gasp. She smiled, picturing the look on Erik's face. A long silence followed, Abigail patiently waiting for Erik's eyes to stop devouring her.

"You look… Stunning, Abigail."

"Thank you!" she replied happily, "I was hoping for that effect."

"You have completely outdone me."

"What? You haven't even gotten dressed yet." She asked a little confused.

"I have a gift, though." She heard him say. After a bit of rustling, she felt something slide onto her finger, "There. Now, you are perfect."

"Why did you give me a ring?"

"It is mine. I want you to wear it."

"You're not proposing to me, are you?" she asked a little wearily.

"Only if you want me to." He said, completely serious.

Abigail felt the ring. It was cold and smooth, "What does it look like?"

"It is a black circle."

She smiled. It fit him. The ring was a bit loose on her though, but she would make sure it stayed on.

"Thank you Erik. I love it." She said, reaching a hand out to him. He took it, pulling her to him.

"I love _you_."

"Oh, don't be a romantic and get ready. I already hear people coming in upstairs."

* * *

><p>Doug was running late. He was out a little longer than he had expected to last night. But preparations had to be made.<p>

He threw his dirty black outfit in the trash, as well as several tools. He would not need them any longer. Doug looked at his watch. He had only an hour to get to where he had to be. _Hurry, hurry, hurry._

Doug looked down at himself. He was wearing a classic black tux, black shoes. He had a red rose tucked into the breast pocket. His hair was gelled down, his face cleaned and shaven. After making sure not a speck of dirt had found its way onto him, he grabbed the small box from the table, unlocked it, and pulled out the silver gun. He stared at it for a moment, unsure.

_Go, go, go! NOW!_

He shook his head, and began to load the gun. Doug slipped his weapon in the holder underneath the jacket, covered it, and marched out of the garage.

It took almost half an hour to get to the Opera House with all of the traffic. However, he managed to slip by the long line of people waiting to get inside, and found his way to the sketchiest staircase he could find. After following it up, he found himself in the upper deck of the Opera House, level with the crew members working on the backdrops. Doug kept low, low enough so that the workers would not see him, and made his way to the side of the upper level, making sure he was directly across from Box 5 and still had a view of the stage.

Doug watched people begin to file into their seats, almost laughing at their idiocy.

Fools.

* * *

><p>Erik took her Abigail's hand. He wore a completely black tux, red tie, and a white rose. And yet, he was nothing compared to Abigail still. How could he, standing beside this beauty? Erik led her up the stairs and through the secret passage to Box 5. It had been left open, due to the lack of tickets available to be purchased for it.<p>

Of course, Erik had nothing to do with _that_. Nothing at all.

Just as they were about to step out into the open, Erik placed a black mask over his face, an fastened it in.

Erik pulled open the curtain. Hundreds of excited conversations met his ears, and he was practically blinded by the hundreds of bright lights eliminating the grand hall. A smile grew on his face; memories of all of the different plays he had witnessed from Box 5 came flying back. He looked down at Abigail. She had a large smile on her face.

"I can't wait to hear Aimee sing!" she said happily.

"I'm sure she will do just fine." He said. The thought of listening to his agonizing tale did not bother him in the slightest. He had a much better prize than the woman that Abigail's friend would be portraying.

But, he knew that he would never think whoever playing her would quite match up to her. Ever.

Ignoring this thought, Erik led Abigail to her seat. After sitting down beside her, Erik began to describe the Opera House to her in complete detail, ranging from the large painting on the roof to the people sitting below them. She oohhed and ahhhed at his words, and he could not help but feel happy as they sat there, peacefully waiting for the play to begin.

He _felt_ like he was in heaven. The woman he loved beside him, and entertainment at their fingertips.

However, he could not shake the feeling of being… Watched.

* * *

><p>Doug could not believe his eyes. Abigail… It was Abigail! Sitting there, just across the hall from him! She was beautiful; no. She was an angel, sent from heaven just for him. All Doug could see was Abigail, her hair, her form, her body… Her hand holding someone else's.<p>

What?

Doug looked over. A man sat with her. Who was this beast, this stain upon humanity? Wait! What is this? A mask? It could only be…

No. That is simply impossible. Never in a million years would Abigail be holding _that_ hand. Only _his_ would she wish to hold. Not…

No. He would not even think the name. Did he even have a name? No, of course not. Devils did not get names.

He clenched and unclenched his hand. Doug wanted Abigail. Now. She was so close. All he had to do was…

The lights grew low. A man walked out, and began a speech.

Doug cursed. He needed time, not this. Perhaps…

He was distracted by Abigail laughing. She playfully hit the man next to her, and he gave her a sly grin.

He knew that grin.

No.

Anger grew within him. Suddenly, an entire sea of hate began to flow within his veins. Doug grabbed the gun from its hiding place, and pointed it at the _thing_. The devil.

The Phantom.

But… He could not simply just shoot him now. No… No, that was not the plan. Yes, yes, he needed to wait.

Doug pulled the gun back, but kept it pointed at the disgusting creature seated next to the imprisoned angel.

He would wait.

* * *

><p>"And now, the moment you have all been waiting for… Ladies and gentlemen, boy and girls, I give you… The <em>Phantom<em> of the _Opera_!"

Roaring applause. Cheers. Yells. Aimee was frozen. What was she to do? What was her first line? She flew around, and ran directly into Drew's stomach.

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her as he said, "AIMEE. You got this." He said as the first actors went outside, "What's wrong?"

"I just saw my friends." She cried, throwing a thumb up in the direction of Box 5.

Drew let her go, peeked around the curtain, and came back, "Well, that's great Aimee. Why is that so scary?"

"You don't understand how complicated it is with Doug."

"But Doug isn't here."

"Yes, he is. I can tell." She said shivering.

Drew grabbed her face in his hands, "Aimee. You are not Aimee tonight. You are Christine."

Aimee's eyes widened.

"Yes. You are Christine." Drew repeated, "You don't know who those people are up there. All you know is your story. Right?"

Aimee nodded slowly, erasing her mind of everything but the play. She understood what she had to do. Drew was not Drew. She was not Aimee. Her name was Christine, and the man before her was her Phantom.

She heard applause from the crowd.

"You're up, Christine." The Phantom said.

She nodded slowly, turned around, and began to dance.

* * *

><p>"Oh, she's wonderful." Abigail cried as she listened to Aimee sing Think of Me. She turned her head to Erik, a smile consuming her face.<p>

"She is lovely." He replied, slightly distracted. Abigail assumed he was concentrated on the play, so she turned her attention back to listening to her friend sing.

_Flowers fades,__  
><em>_The fruits of summer fade,__  
><em>_They have their seasons, so do we__  
><em>_but please promise me, that sometimes__  
><em>_you will think of me!_

The audience roared in approval. Abigail stood, following Erik's lead that a standing ovation was being done. Tears of happiness flowed from her dead eyes; Aimee had done it perfectly. All she felt was pride for her friend. Abigail could not have been happier, sitting here, listening to her best friend perform her heart out, sitting next to the man she loved.

She was in heaven.

Something was wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong.

Erik's eyes scanned the crowd. Something was off. It didn't feel right. Those eyes… He felt them trained on him. But whose? Everyone was staring at Christine as she was being seduced by the imitation of himself through the famous mirror.

Why did he feel as though something was wrong, when everything felt so perfect?

Erik looked at Abigail. She seemed happy. But, more than happy. She was not worried. Why should he ruin this moment? He tried to relax, settling deeper in his chair.

It did not help.

He sighed in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Abigail asked. He looked over and saw she no longer had a smile on her face, but a look of worry. He grew angry at himself for interrupting her happiness.

"Nothing, love." He said, giving her a small kiss, "I'm enjoying the play."

"Oh!" she said, her face lighting up again, "Alright." And she turned her attention back to her friend, now passing out in fear of the fake Phantom on the stage.

* * *

><p>Doug slammed his fist into the wall.<p>

They kissed.

They KISSED.

_Kissed_.

He wanted to throw up. He wanted to die.

No, he wanted to kill.

She did not hesitate to kiss him back. Abigail liked this disgusting thing. How? How could she?

Doug had loved her. But now, somehow, it all seemed different. How could he love her now, seeing such a thing? She was no angel. She was no goddess.

She was an imp, a filthy little snake. How deceiving of her to have dragging him this long! She knew he loved her! She did this on purpose! Abigail was trying to torture him, destroy him from the inside out, just like Aimee! But no, he would not have this. Never again.

All of them were guilty. All of them would pay. Nobody would take a shot at HIM and get away with it.

Doug unlocked the safety on his gun.

* * *

><p><em><strong>We have all been blind<strong>_

_**And yet the answer is staring us in the face**_

_**This could be the chance**_

_**To ensnare our clever friend**_

_We're listening_

_Go on._

_**We shall play his game**_

_**Perform his work, but remember we hold the ace**_

_**For if Miss Dae sings**_

_**He is certain to attend**_

_We are certain the doors are barred_

_We are certain the police are there_

_**We are certain they're armed.**_

_**The curtain falls. **_

_**His reign will end!**_

Doug's breaths began to get heavy. Perhaps he should not do this.

No.

They deserved it. He would not fail.

But which? Who was more guilty?

He twisted the gun in his sweaty hands, contemplating this new question.

* * *

><p>Christine was on the stage. She glanced to Raoul for aid. He waved for the police.<p>

Doug's eyes were glued on the disgustingly happy couple across from him. Tears were flowing down his face.

Why, why, why.

Abigail… Why.

And then anger.

The disgusting pig, the filthy demon! He stole her from Doug, he took her away! He jammed the gun in the devil's direction.

And then, Abigail took his hand.

She kissed it.

It smiled at her lovingly.

Doug wanted to run. He wanted to hide. Anywhere but here.

He dropped to the ground in sobs. His free hand tore at his hair, grabbed at his heart. Doug wanted to tear it out of his chest, he wanted to throw it at them, make them stare at its dead figure.

No, no, no…

Doug grit his teeth and looked back at them.

They were kissing, holding each other. It was pure happiness.

It disgusted him. He shook his head, a few tears shaking off his chin.

_Boom_.

* * *

><p><strong>...<strong>

**...**

**...**

**...**

**I'M .**

**Don't kill me. Puhlease. I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can :P REVIEW! I WANT REACTIONS!**


	17. Poems from the Dead

_****_**OKAY OKAY YES YES I KNOW I KNOWWWWWWWWWWW... I'm sorry, jezuzuzuz ._. I have a list of excuses:**

**1.) School**

**2.) Winterguard (which is ending saturday, so I will have soooo much more free time after to finish this story)**

**3.) Project (community project that i'm running = stress)**

**4.) Failing miserably at the next chapter.**

**I started and restarted the next chapter soooo many times but I can't get it right. I know exactly what i want to do, but I can't seem to put it down. MAJOR writing block in a way. Ughz. I want the next chapter to be DRAMATIC and SOBBINGLY emotional. So, for now, enjoy a crappy piece of shit that I created in order to say, "Sorry that I'm a horrible author, here's something to hold you over until NEXT Wednesday where I hopefully will have a beautiful piece of artwork for you."**

**Poeko: I'm sorry for the wait D: GOOD! Give your neighbors heart attacks, and then they will ask, and you'll be like, I JUST READ THIS AWESOME FAN FICTION YEAAH.**

**PhantomFan01: I'm sorry, you'll be sad with this chapter then ;_;**

**RedDeathLvr: ;_; I feel so evil seeing everyone asking for updates. I promise next chapter will be for realz.**

**Xxnikkigirl123xX :**** Well, next real chapter will be next Wednesday, so just hold off until then!**

**goodie58: BOOM.**

**Maxine I Love Erik: Teehee. Poor Doug, getting thrown into the bad guy position**

**SammiRichGurl: NoooOooOooOooOoOoo dont kill me ;_;**

**TheIdesofMarch: I-I'm sorry ;_; Next chapter... I SWEAR**

**PanicAtTheEpicness: Don't kill me ;_; By the way, "he"? I'm a girl . Anywho, I hope you did well!**

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><p><em><strong>Bang<strong>__._

_Time freezes,_

_The world stops. _

_I look down, _

_My jaw drops._

_Upon my chest,_

_A bloody spot_

_Why now?_

_Why me?_

_What have I done? _

_How can this be?_

_Oh save me, love,_

_Protect me, dear,_

_I need you now,_

_My end is near_

_I'm too weak_

_I can't go on…_

_Save me, please!_

_It's… so dark…_

_I'm so afraid_

_I need you near_

_Don't let me go…_

_Only your voice I hear._

_You are so kind_

_I know it's true. _

_You may not see it_

_But it's your heart that grew._

_I need not look into your eyes_

_To know the truth behind your lies_

_I will die here, I know it's true._

_I wish to die alone with you._

_Hold me close, please, don't go_

_I want you here to sooth my woe_

_Before I go, I wish to say_

_A few words I have kept at bay._

_Darkness ceases to exist_

_Only in the absence of light does it persist_

_You are my light, and I am yours_

_Promise me you will find another source._

_Now, let me close my eyes,_

_Pretending to believe your lies,_

_Praying for my life to last_

_Knowing my future is my past._

_Watch me closely, my dear love_

_For they only listen when they die young._

_Lay me down before my prize_

_Let me say one last goodbye._

_I see death; he smiles at me_

_I see life; you cry over me_

_I see peace; it calls my name_

_I see love; you are crumbling away_

_**Love is my essence **_

_**You are my love.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong><strong>_**I'M **

**Next chapter will be full of awesomeness and emotional roller coasters. Just wait. **

**Can you guess who got shot? Review and let me see how many of you guess right!**


	18. I Will Fix You

**SORRY FOR THE WAIT. I LOVE YOU ALL FOR STICKING THROUGH IT. **_  
><em>

**I just had such a hard time figuring out how to do this chapter, and I made it short because there was way to much going on in my head about what I wanted to do, that I needed to save it for another time lol. I hope this makes up for the long wait!**

**PanicAtTheEpicness: Sorry, I didn't forget about you I promise! I'll message you back ASAP, but I've just been busy and all. **

**SammiRichGurl: D: D: D: NOOOOOO! **

* * *

><p><em>They say bad things happen for a reason<em>

_But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding_

_Cos she's moved on while I'm still grieving _

_And when a heart breaks no it don't break even_

_No_

…_._

_I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing _

_Just prayin' to a God that I don't believe in_

_Cos I got time while she got freedom_

_Cos when a heart breaks no it don't break even_

_Lyrics from Break Even by The Script_

* * *

><p><em>Bang<em>.

Erik felt Abigail freeze. He opened his eyes, his head only inches from hers. Even in the darkness, he saw Abigail's pale, gloomy eyes slowly widen and her smile fade away. He frowned in confusion as he slowly pulled away from her.

Looking down, he saw her clutching her chest.

Erik frowned. Something was wrong…

A substance began to form under her hand, darkening the already deathly red dress. Something… What…

"E-Erik…" Abigail gasped, reaching out a bloody hand to him, "H-Help…"

Abigail grasped at him, staining his suit as she failed at grabbing onto his shoulder. She fell to the ground. Erik couldn't move; his brain refused to comprehend his surroundings. He sat there, dizzy and nauseated, waiting for her to jump up laughing and tell him she was fine and that it was all come cruel joke.

"Erik… _Where are y-you?" _Abigail cried, tears pouring down her cheek, bloody hands drunkenly feeling around, "P-Please… It h-hurts…"

Erik snapped to attention at her cries. He shook his head and looked down at the mess before him. Falling to the ground beside her, Erik turned Abigail over onto her back, revealing the bullet wound on her chest.

Erik saw red.

A large snarl erupted from his lips. Who could have done this? Where were they? He would find them, imprison them, and torture them until they begged for death. Oh, he would tear their skin off inch by inch. He would cop off their fingers and toes, pull out their teeth, rip out each strand of their hair. He would break their legs, rip their arms out of their sockets, and play with them like a puppet. Oh, Erik would make them pay for this if it was the last thing he did. He almost felt sorry for the one who dared to touch his little pianist.

But now was not the time for revenge plots. Now was the time to save the woman who had saved him. Ignoring the intense waves of fear and confusion, Erik pressed his hand down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Abigail gasped in pain.

"Abigail! Can you hear me? Abigail?" he cried, lifting her up.

"Mmmm…" she mumbled.

"Stay with me, Abigail. Speak to me!" he said as he pulled her into his arms, tears beginning to form.

"E-Erik?"

Erik clung to her, keeping one hand on the wound and the other supporting her against him, "A-Abigail?"

A few last tears fell. She sniffed, gave a small wince of pain and said, "Take m-me home… Please?"

Erik learned to fly.

He leapt from the ground and flew through the Opera House. Erik charged through the gates, burst out into the streets, and sprinted in what he prayed to be the right direction. Nobody seemed to be around. Erik didn't think to wonder why; all that mattered was getting Abigail to safety. But how was her house safe for her? Shouldn't he get Abigail to the hospital?

The hospital. People were there… People that he did not know… Or trust… Who says that they will not flee the moment that they realize who is carrying a shot blind girl? For all he knew, they would think that it was _him_ who had attempted to kill Abigail.

He looked down at Abigail as he ran. She had passed out. Anger tore through his heart, leaving nothing but fear in its place. How could he be thinking of himself when she was dying? He should have gone to the hospital the moment he realized what had happened. But he was moving in the wrong direction… The hospital was on the other side of town…

He did not go back.

_Selfish, selfish, selfish! _

Self hatred ripped through Erik's mind as he continued towards Abigail's house. He was a coward and a fool. He couldn't do it by himself. How could Erik face the world without Abigail standing by his side to protect him? He couldn't even protect her when she needed him the most… How could Erik have let this happen? Why didn't he realize that something was off? Erik should have known she was in danger. It was all his fault… All of it…

Erik kicked Abigail's door down. The house was eerily quiet. Not a soul had been inside for quite some time. Erik dashed to the kitchen, laying Abigail's limp body across her kitchen table. Reaching out to her, he paused for a moment, wondering what to do… He never had a need to fix a wound, all of his simply healed on the spot.

Blood began to drip onto the table.

Erik cursed. He tore off her dress, revealing her naked chest and stomach underneath. Erik pulled the cloth down to her hips, ignored her naked form, and assessed the wound.

It was worse than he had imagined. The bullet entered just below her heart. Erik realized that it must have just missed the vital organ, otherwise he would most likely be standing here with a dead body.

_You'll be standing here with a dead body if you don't do something_.

Erik tore his eyes away from the gushing wound, searching desperately for something to fix it with. He darted through the house, grabbing anything that looked somewhat medical. Upon his return, he found Abigail a shade whiter.

A small yelp burst from within his chest. Erik slammed the materials he had gathered next to her, and through a swarm of tears, he began to pick up the shattered pieces of his love and try to put her back together again.

* * *

><p>She was in a room.<p>

It was a dark room.

But it had a light.

It was such a tiny little light.

But oh, it was such a large light to her.

It was warm.

But it was cold.

She shivered, realizing how very cold it was.

But the light was oh so warm.

It filled her with life.

Suddenly, the light went out.

She gasped, reaching a hand out to where the light had been.

Where did it go? Why did it leave?

She thought the light and her were friends…

She began to cry.

It was so dark and cold…

A couple of minutes went by.

She wanted to die.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the light came back.

But oh, it was so much grander than it had been before.

The light had grown larger; it felt like the sun.

She tilted her head to the side. This could not be the same light as before.

It illuminated the room; she could see everything.

It was an empty room.

She wanted to fill it.

She looked down upon herself, and realized she was naked.

She wanted to clothe herself.

The light began to hum a comfortable tune.

She hummed along with it, a smile growing on her face.

She began to move.

After walking around for a little bit, she found a white cloth.

She wrapped it around herself, tying it at her waist with a rope that had been lying nearby.

After awhile, she began to find other things.

A small chair.

A picture of a man.

A few music pages.

And then a piano.

She pulled the chair up to the piano and sat down.

The light grew larger as she played; for some reason, she felt as though she belonged there in this dark room, playing the piano with this warm, gentle light behind her.

She felt safe.

She felt warm.

She felt loved.

She played and played, never stopping, not needing anything else in the world.

_Bang_.

The light went out.

It was dark again.

She sat there, stunned at the suddenness of the light's departure.

The note she had played was still ringing out, cutting through the silence where the gentle hum had been.

A voice began to speak.

*"Darkness… Is not something. It is the _absence_ of something. There is low light… Normal light… Bright light… Flashing light… But if you have no light constantly, you have nothing, and it is called darkness."*

Her lower lip trembled.

She did not want darkness. She wanted light.

But… Was this truly darkness?

Was it not simply the _absence_ of a light?

She could fill it again, couldn't she?

She jumped up from her seat and began to run around, searching for a light.

Where could she look?

Would she find another light?

A few tears began to form.

She wanted things back to how they used to be…

Nothing was here…

She grabbed at her hair, screaming in frustration

Why would no light come to her?

Was she not the same?

Where did her light go?

She screamed, ripping off the cloth around her waist and throwing it to the ground

She would never find another light.

She would be alone.

In the dark.

Forever.

* * *

><p>Erik brushed a bit of sweat off of his forehead. He had been working on Abigail for almost an hour, and so far, she didn't appear to be any better than when he had started.<p>

In fact, she appeared to be getting worse.

Several bloody towels lay strewn around her motionless body, along with a few bandages he had failed to attach to her. Now, Erik was trying something he had heard of before; stitches. Unsure of the exact procedure that was done, Erik settled on simply cleaning off the few sewing needles that Abigail had lying around the house. After several failed attempts at stringing the needle, he finally was able to slip the thread through the smaller-than-necessary hole on top of it.

Looking back down to Abigail, Erik cleaned off the blood that had begun to pool on the wound. Again. Pinching her skin together, Erik took a deep breath and plunged his way through the tougher-than-he-imagined skin.

His determination won over his self doubt.

He would save her.

* * *

><p>Aimee smiled out to the crowd. She waved and waved, flowers raining down upon her. The cheers and screams overwhelmed her senses; she could hardly hear her own thoughts. Everything was a blur of tears and joy; nothing could ruin this moment for her.<p>

She was the star.

The beauty.

The prize.

Aimee was the girl in the spotlight, the person every woman wanted to be in that Opera House. And Aimee knew it. Delight was spread across her face, her arm growing numb from waving about so much.

Drew walked up behind her. The crowd roared in approval. He grabbed her hand, and rose their intertwined fingers to the air. Another roar of enthusiasm.

"Bravo!"

"Encore!"

"Wonderful!"

"Stupendous!"

A few tears of joy began to roll down Aimee's cheek. Her cheeks began to hurt from smiling to much. She looked over at Drew; his eyes were stuck on her, a glowing look upon his face. Aimee thought nothing of it. She turned back to the crowd.

The curtain fell.

The cheering crowd disappeared.

"You did… Astounding, Aimee." Drew said, keeping a hold on her hand as he dropped his arm to his side, "Complete and utter perfection."

Aimee's face turned red, "Oh, shut up, you did amazing as well!"

"You stole the show, Aimee! You stole it and ran away. Not a soul could have caught you." He replied.

Aimee let her grin answer for her.

"So, where are your friends? Didn't you say they would be here?"

A shock wave ran down her spine. Aimee had completely forgotten about Abigail and the Phantom. And what of Doug? Where was he?

"I didn't see them. Maybe they didn't come." She said almost hopefully. Drew caught her tone and shot her a confused glance.

Aimee shook her head, "I love my friends, but they… Uh, well, they had more important things to do tonight. Yeah."

"What? It's not like someone's dying. The least they could have done was show up."

* * *

><p>He sat in the dark.<p>

He stared to the ground.

He watched nothing.

He felt nothing.

He was cold.

He was tired.

He wanted to leave.

He wanted it to end.

He wanted to go back.

He wanted to live.

He wanted to die.

He wanted her there.

He wanted her gone.

He sat in the dark.

He stared at the ground.

He pulled out a gun.

He watched the silver glow pierce through the black.

He shut his eyes, wishing to take it all back.

He jumped in the air, calling himself a fool.

He stamped a shoe to the ground, grit his teeth, grabbed his hair.

He hated the truth.

He wanted a lie.

He wanted someone to tell him why, why… _why_?

He took a deep breath.

He drew it out slow.

He cleared his mind of all wrong thoughts and all of the woe.

He looked at the night, coming to the truth.

He hated himself.

He knew what to do.

He gripped his gun tight.

He blinked a few times, trying to gain the courage to try.

He wanted to tell her what happened.

He wanted to tell her why.

He knew it was to late here.

He knew that here was not there.

He realized that there was her.

He held up his bridge from here to there.

He looked up to there.

He said a prayer.

He crossed the bridge.

He was not there.

* * *

><p>Erik looked down at the mess that he had created. It was a disgusting, messy, bloody mess.<p>

The stitches were crooked, leaving holes for blood to occasionally spill out. Erik managed to even cut her in several spots on her stomach from the needle, as well as himself, leaving behind small incisions that would most certainly scar. He frowned, wondering what he had to do.

Erik put a cool cloth on Abigail's forehead, wrapped a bandage tightly around her wound, and dressed her into a pair of sweatpants and shirt he found in her bedroom. They both were quickly stained with blood.

Erik cursed at himself. Why was he so inefficient? Why was he so useless? Nothing ever turned out right around him. What has he ever done to benefit someone else? All he was capable of was anger and destruction.

Abigail started. Erik was at her side in a heartbeat.

"Abigail? Abigail! Can you hear me? Abigail!"

She moaned softly. Her eyelids flickered open, revealing her dead eyes.

"Oh, Abigail…" Erik cried, "I'm so sorry… I couldn't… I can't…" and broke down.

"E-…Erik? Is t-that you?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Y-yes! Of course, it's me, Abigail." He cried as he grabbed her hand. He kissed it over and over again, letting her know he was next to her. She smiled faintly.

"I s-saw…"

"No!" Erik yelled, "You saw nothing. Nothing. You are going to be fine."

"A-A light…"

His heart sank. His experience with dying had involved lights.

"I-It was so warm… A-and then… It w-was gone!"

Hope rose within him. Perhaps he had saved her from death?

"E-Erik!" she cried, trying to raise her other arm to him, "P-Please…"

"Shhh! Don't talk. You are so weak right now."

"I'm going to die."

"NO."

"I-I feel cold."

His heart was racing. Erik began to sweat.

"You promised me!" he cried, grabbing at anything his mind could think of. "You promised… You would play the duet with me tonight…"

Abigail shut her eyes, tears flowing down her bloody cheeks, "I k-know. I'm s-s-so sorry…"

Erik clung to her hand, and then her arm, and then her face. He did not want to let her go. He refused.

"You promised me you would be here with me, forever." He begged.

"I know."

"You swore to help me. You told me you would never leave!"

She began to shake her head, a few sobs escaping her lips, "I-I-I k-know! _I know_!"

"I need you here, Abigail! I can't do this without you…"

"Yes y-you can." Abigail said, reaching up to him, "You are so strong…"

"Only when I'm with you…" Erik whispered, stroking her cheek.

Abigail swallowed, shaking her head, "You must promise me something Erik."

"Anything."

She opened her eyes again. Somehow, even on her death bed, Abigail managed to search through the darkness and stare directly into Erik's eyes. He felt her stare, truly and deeply felt it, as well as all of the pain and suffering that came with it, "Promise me you will find someone else."

He froze.

"Never." He hissed, "No."

"You must promise me, or I will die… So… m-miserable…" Her eyes began to slowly close again. Erik felt her body began to go limp once again. He leaned down to her ear, and whispered his own promise to her.

"I will fix you."

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter will be back to normal. I just had a TON of shit to do, and my season just ended so I should have a LOT more time too btw. I PROMISE. I swear. I am a good person ;_;<strong>

*** * this thing is a quote from Einstein. Not my words, but I tweaked it slightly. Don't sue me.**


	19. Let it Burn

**... Don't kill me? Please? I promise, I'll try to stay on track, but it's so hard ;_; I've had AP testing this week and so much studying makes me want to hit my head against the wall. The only reason I was able to write this was because I got off school early today. **

**PanicAtTheEpicness: I'M SORRY! Just... Heh... heh... You'll understand when you read this chapter. BY THE WAY WHAT THE FUCK LAST KORRA EPISODE? JEEZUM!**

**13shapphire13: Well, she didn't die last chapter... Heh...**

**Pokeo: I made so many people cry haha! Sorry! Read this chapter and see if you cry or not :D**

**PhantomFan01: Read and find out! Haha :D**

**RedDeathLvr: Sorry for the wait ;_; But... Not as sorry as I am... Ugh just read it! Haha :D**

**TheIdesofMarch: Thanks for the tip! I've been watching for it, but I don't know if I caught myself 100% lol**

**Number1Werido: Thank you so much! I tried really hard to make a OC character people would love with Erik, that didn't seem to fake or anything. All of the twists and turns may be my spurr of the moment ideas from lack of plotting this story properly, but thank you! Haha**

**emmagination: Read and see! Hehehehehhee**

**XxrudexbutxnicexX: I have not given up, do not worry!**

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><p><em>Writing this now seems… irrelevant.<em>

_Why should I be pouring my soul onto this simple sheet now of all times? Why is it _now_ that I feel the sudden urge to write? Why do I give in to this sweet seduction of the pen, this forceful pull of the paper? How can I find words where before there were none? What has changed? What curse has been lifted? Am I free? Or am I simply shackled down…_

_Only time can tell._

_But I don't _have_ time. Perhaps this is why these thoughts have decided to come forth from the inner depths of my mind. Maybe the reason that I have become so reflective is because I have so very little time left, that I have unconsciously realized if I do not record these thoughts, they will be lost. Forever._

_My entire life, I realize, has been a lie. Nothing that I believed was true. Nothing that I hoped for has come. Everything that I have worked toward has been, or will be, lost. I will die with the regret of lost time, mistaken actions, and untold truths. This entire time I have been naïve, thinking the world to be one way when in reality it has been the opposite. _

_If only I had known how my end would be… If only fortune had thought to shine upon my hopeless form as it lay blindly upon the world, unknowing it's true intentions. If only… Oh, how I wish to go back. I want to fly through time and disappear into the past, to change the inevitable fate that has been brought upon me by none other than myself. _

_But now is not the time for wistful thoughts and hopeless dreams. Now is the time for action. I'm not entirely sure what kind of action must be made, or why I must take it. All I know is that I must do something in order to escape this feeling trapped deep within my mind. _

_I'm not even entirely sure how I am writing this to be completely honest; how am I able to know, to see these words? How am I able to comprehend what is being said? How am I able to allow my hands to dance across this page and flawlessly describe my inner feelings? These things escape me, but somehow bring be a greater sense of peace. Knowing that I am able to do this does not bother me; it feels right, as if this is what I am meant to do at this point in time. I feel as though some warm figure if watching over my shoulder and protecting me. I can feel their soft presence surround me, clearing my mind of all worry or fear of what is going on right now. For some reason, I know that I have all of the time in the world to record my thoughts down for you to see. _

_Who are you? Why are you gifted with my mind? Does it even matter…? No, I suppose not. I should be lucky that someone, anyone, will be able to hear what I have to say, even if it may mean nothing to you._

_My name is Abigail, and I have been blind for the majority of my life. I play the piano, and have been since I was a little girl. The piano has been my life. It saved me from loneliness and senseless troubles. I have gone to music and sounds at the most difficult moments of my life, for it is all that I could go to. My ability to do _something_ in this world has meant everything to me, and the music that I have created from that grand instrument has been exactly what I have been able to control. Not much else was available, but I did what I could with what I had; a pair of hands, a broken soul, and a will to live. _

_While still young, and still learning how to play, I met a young boy named Doug. He found me in a small fit of terror, bawling over a realization that I might not be able to learn. Doug helped me, and continued to do so for years to come. This is how we became, for lack of a better term, friends. But we weren't friends. _

_To me, he was my brother. To him, I was his lover. _

_I have never, not once, been truly blind._

_I can see. I can feel. I know. I understand. _

_From the moment that he fell in love with me, I knew it. Rather than confronting him about it, I chose to ignore it. I knew that he did not know it himself quite yet, that he was slowly developing a fascination for me. While it made me feel slightly uneasy, I never once enjoyed his company any less. Eventually, I grew accustomed of it, and even forgot about it._

_This was, I believe, my first mistake._

_As the years flew by, me and Doug's lives had become one. We rarely spent a day away from each other. Doug helped me live my life, and to this moment I have no idea how I would have been able to survive if he had never found me crying on the piano._

_You could say I owe my life to him. _

_Funny, isn't it? _

_I have had the pleasure of becoming good friends with another in my time: Aimee. She, I imagine, is beautiful; a singer, actress, dancer… She is quite spectacular on the stage. We grew close, both of us impacting the other in both positive and negative ways. I laugh as I think of all the times we tried to teach each other our art… I was never able to pick up on Aimee's methods of singing, and she never understood my explanations of music. _

_Aimee was adventurous as well. She loved the thrill of a lie or the rush of an escape. Because of this, Aimee was the one who decided we should visit the Opera House before it was opened. She managed to convince me, lying and saying that it had already opened. I was foolish enough to believe her, and was dragged along as we broke into perhaps the most famous building in the country._

_This was my second mistake. _

_Inside, we both were taken aback. I could smell the must and dust; an antique feeling filled the air around me. I went inside to look around, not knowing I would not be coming back out._

_This is where I met him, the man who I despise beyond anything that I can imagine. He was the one who ruined my life forever… The one who trapped me inside of his prison, the one who attempted to corrupt my mind with his depression, his lunacy, his horrid mind…_

_But, he was also the man that I came to appreciate. He was the man that I came to adore, to enjoy, to wake every morning to and be happy that he was there. I decided to change him, to be with him. It was my goal in life to alter his negative opinions of the world, to make him come to see the light._

_I had fallen in love with the Phantom of the Opera…_

…_And it was my final mistake. _

_It had been so hard to resist his lure, his unknown aura of desperation. He was so lost and confused, how could I simply abandon him? So many times I had been allowed to run for the hills, to forget about the monster under the Opera House. And yet, I stayed in my tiny cell. Patient and willing, I remained in what probably should have been an infinite hell of despair and mental torture. But it wasn't. He was rude and angry, but that faded with time. He became charming and sweet; he transformed from a beast, and became a man. _

_He became who I have come to know as Erik. _

_By his side, I felt… _

_Useful. Needed. Loved. Cherished. I felt as though I finally found my perfect match; He guided me as I guided him. My blindness allowed me to see his true form: of scars and roses. I loved him for what he offered me, and he, I believe, loved me for my ability to see him for who he was. _

_This may not seem very romantic, but I don't believe love it supposed to be like that. I don't think that there was anything there beyond this simple truth, the truth that we needed each other. Desperately. What more could one wish for from another? To have the security and realization that without the other you would succumb to something neither of you really wanted to think about was complete bliss. _

_I could have spent the rest of my life with Erik. But I suppose I have, haven't I? If that, then my only regret is that I did not spend enough time by his side, guiding him and aiding him in his battle against himself. _

_It's almost sad to come to the conclusion of these thoughts, for I know they will be my last. I feel the warm light behind me warning me that my end if fast approaching. This should frighten me, I think, but I am not afraid. I should be confused, but I am calm. I should be upset and regretful; I should be begging this presence behind me for a few more years, or months, days or hours._

_But I am peaceful. _

_I am happy._

_I am ready for death; I great him with open arms. My time has come, I know this much. _

_My only fear is for the ones I leave behind. _

_Reader, I may not know you. I may never speak to you, or know your story. I may never touch you, or hug you… I may never look into your eyes and truly understand you… But, if it is not too much to ask, would you tell my friends that I love them, and forgive them, and that I cannot _wait_ to see them again in another world, and another life._

_Thank you._

* * *

><p>Erik sat patiently next to Abigail. He waited, glancing to a small clock that would yell out the time every thirty minutes in a rather odd sort of voice. Erik made a mental note to ask her about it once she woke up.<p>

Because Abigail would wake up any minute now of course. She _had_ to wake up. It was impossible for her to _not_ wake up. After all, how much sleep did one person need? Erik shook his head, and changed her bandage for the third time in two hours. She was bleeding rather profusely, despite Erik's less than stellar stitching job. Erik chose to ignore this fact, however, along with the fact that her breathing had begun to slow.

She was fine… Perfectly and completely normal. Just about average. She was _content_. Abigail just didn't want to wake up, that was all. Nothing out of the ordinary. She did enjoy sleeping, right? Of course she did. Nobody didn't like sleep. Abigail was probably just tired from getting shot, that's all.

Erik began to sing as he wove a new bandage around her wound.

_When you try your best, but you don't succeed_

_When you get what you want, but not what you need_  
><em>When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep<em>  
><em>Stuck in reverse<em>

_And the tears come streaming down your face_  
><em>When you lose something you can't replace<em>  
><em>When you love someone, but it goes to waste<em>  
><em>Could it be worse?<em>

_Lights will guide you home_  
><em>And ignite your bones<em>  
><em>And I will try to fix you<em>

_And high up above or down below_  
><em>When you're too in love to let it go<em>  
><em>But if you never try you'll never know<em>  
><em>Just what you're worth<em>

_Lights will guide you home_  
><em>And ignite your bones<em>  
><em>And I will try to fix you<em>

_Tears stream down on your face_  
><em>When you lose something you cannot replace<em>  
><em>Tears stream down on your face<em>  
><em>And I...<em>

_Tears stream down on your face_  
><em>I promise you I will learn from my mistakes<em>  
><em>Tears stream down on your face<em>  
><em>And I...<em>

_Lights will guide you home_  
><em>And ignite your bones<em>  
><em>And I will try to fix you<em>

Erik frowned, but shook off an odd feeling that began to rise in his stomach. He moved his thoughts to other topics.

What if someone was to come to the house? Erik looked down at Abigail. Blood was sprayed out in every direction; the table, floor, walls… even the ceiling managed to get some blood splashed across it. Abigail herself looked… Well… Sleeping. Yes. Sleeping. That was the word. Her pale skin is just because she is _cold_ of course.

Erik decided to get her out of the torn dress and clean up a bit. He gently lifted Abigail's limp body off of the table and carried her to the bedroom. After a slight struggle, he managed to rid her of the destroyed outfit and dressed her in black pants and a black tank top. After laying her down on her bed and kissing the top of her head, he managed to tear himself away from her motionless form and clean the mess he had created.

It took him almost three hours.

By the time Abigail's house resembled more of a house than a gore machine, it was almost six in the morning. Erik sighed as he made his way back to Abigail, his body feeling tired for the first time that he could remember. He shook his head slowly, eyes staring at the ground, afraid of what he would find when he finally went back to her.

Erik stopped at the doorway and looked up. He gasped.

A ghost white Abigail was smiling weakly at him, sitting up in the bed.

"O-o-ow." Abigail hissed as his body connected with hers. Erik was squeezing her, and hugging her, and never wanted to let go. He was sobbing and choking, abandoning all of the fears that he was holding inside of him.

"Abigail…" he whispered.

Erik felt a small hand wrap around his neck. He looked up to see her familiar dead eyes staring back at him, a few tears rolling down her own cheeks.

"H-Hi, Erik."

"I thought I lost you."

Abigail's smile quivered. She slowly shook her head, holding something back.

"What's wrong, Abigail?" he said quickly, "Are you okay?"

Abigail let out a painful laugh, placing a hand on each of his cheeks. She slowly rubbed his face, shaking her head all the while. Erik was confused but said nothing as she went from his cheeks to his hair to his shoulders, just silently taking him in with her touch.

"Bring m-me to the piano?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Of course!" he said cheerfully, glad she was well enough to play. He scooped her frail body into his arms, and rushed her to the piano. After carefully placing her on the seat, he himself sat down beside her and waited expectantly.

But she simply sat there, a few tears still rolling down her cheeks, her eyes wide. Erik frowned. Something was wrong.

Just as he was about to say something, Abigail rose her shaky hands to the keys. She slowly began a note, and then another one, and then another. Slowly but surely, Abigail began to play a piece that Erik did not recognize. But oh, how it sounded…

It was as if she was explaining something to him. The way she combined the notes and the flow of the tone, it sounded as if she was speaking directly to him. As Erik listened to this exotic music, he watched as her hands began to fly across the keys, diving over and under one another to get the perfect note in just at the right moment. It was as if her hands were performing their own art… The art of dance. Finally, the song began to slow, and soon became recognizable.

And then, suddenly, she looked up to Erik, staring at him as she began to sing.

_When will I see you again?_  
><em>You left with no goodbye,<em>  
><em>Not a single word was said,<em>  
><em>No final kiss to seal any scene,<em>  
><em>I had no idea of the state we were in,<em>

_I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness,_  
><em>And a wandering eye, and heaviness in my head,<em>

_But don't you remember?_  
><em>Don't you remember?<em>  
><em>The reason you loved me before,<em>  
><em>Baby, please remember me once more,<em>

_When was the last time you thought of me?_  
><em>Or have you completely erased me from your memory?<em>  
><em>I often think about where I went wrong,<em>  
><em>The more I do, the less I know,<em>

_But I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness,_  
><em>And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head,<em>

_But don't you remember?_  
><em>Don't you remember?<em>  
><em>The reason you loved me before,<em>  
><em>Baby, please remember me once more,<em>

_Gave you the space so you could breathe,_  
><em>I kept my distance so you would be free,<em>  
><em>And hoped that you'd find the missing piece,<em>  
><em>To bring you back to me,<em>

_Why don't you remember?_  
><em>Don't you remember?<em>  
><em>The reason you loved me before,<em>  
><em>Baby, please remember you used to love me,<em>

_When will I see you again?_

Abigail choked out a sob, but never lost a beat in the song. She continued on with her own music for a minute with Erik carefully watching her. She fought with herself internally, shuddered, and then looked back up at him again. Her hands began to stomp on the keys, giving off a much more determined and strong song.

She began to sing,

_I let it fall, my heart_  
><em>And as it fell, you rose to claim it<em>  
><em>It was dark and I was over<em>  
><em>Until you kissed my lips and you saved me<em>  
><em>My hands, they were strong, but my knees were far too weak<em>  
><em>To stand in your arms without falling to your feet<em>

_But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew_  
><em>All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true<em>  
><em>And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win<em>

_But I set fire to the rain_  
><em>Watched it pour as I touched your face<em>  
><em>Well, it burned while I cried<em>  
><em>'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name<em>

_When laying with you I could stay there_  
><em>Close my eyes, feel you here forever<em>  
><em>You and me together, nothing is better<em>

_'Cause there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew_  
><em>All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true<em>  
><em>And the games you's play, you would always win, always win<em>

_But I set fire to the rain_  
><em>Watched it pour as I touched your face<em>  
><em>Well, it burned while I cried<em>

_'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name_  
><em>I set fire to the rain<em>  
><em>And I threw us into the flames<em>  
><em>When we fell, something died<em>  
><em>'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time<em>

_Sometimes I wake up by the door_  
><em>That heart you caught must be waiting for you<em>  
><em>Even now when we're already over<em>  
><em>I can't help myself from looking for you<em>

_I set fire to the rain_  
><em>Watched it pour as I touch your face<em>  
><em>Well, it burned while I cried<em>  
><em>'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name<em>  
><em>I set fire to the rain<em>  
><em>And I threw us into the flames<em>  
><em>When we fell, something died<em>  
><em>'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time, oh<em>

_Oh, no_  
><em>Let it burn, oh<em>  
><em>Let it burn<em>  
><em>Let it burn<em>

She slowed to a stop, gasping for air. For a few moments, Erik was stunned, unsure of what to do or how to react.

But he didn't have to, for Abigail fell backwards onto the ground.

"Abigail!" he screamed, jumping down from the chair.

She did not respond.

"Abigail!" he cried, patting her cheek a few times, trying to get her to wake up. But her eyes remained unmoving, and the relaxed expression on her face did not twitch at his touch. He checked for breathing.

None.

He checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

Erik lifted up her tank top.

The stitches had burst open. Blood had gushed from it, but now stopped.

Erik could not move. He could not think. He could hardly breathe.

What was going on? What… When… Why?

….

No tears came. No sobs burst forth.

Erik sat on the cold floor holding his little pianist close, rocking her back and forth as he whispered sweet nothings into her unhearing ear, gazed into her unseeing eyes, but did not touch her unfeeling lips, for death had already stolen her kiss today.

* * *

><p><strong>-runs and hides-<strong>


	20. Angels in the Sky

**Hello everyone. I just want to thank you ALL for sticking around with me through this story, even though I am horrible at updating. This has been such an honor to write and to have so many dedicated fans. I love you all so much, and have read and laughed at all the comments that have been about me making your cry or laugh or shocked. I just love it when you told me of how I drew those emotions from you, because that is really why I write. To be able to get an emotional response means so much to me, because I have fallen in love with Abigail as much as some of you have! She is my little baby that I will always love...**

**This is the final chapter. Please enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's probably my favorite chapter yet, just because of the ending... I almost cried writing it myself because it was so sad to think about it****. **

**I am not sure if I will be writing another fan fic until my FINALS ARE DONE WITH! AHHH! **

* * *

><p><strong>Nineteen Years Later…<strong>

A man gazed out ahead of him, staring across the snow. It was mid December, and the chill of the morning bit at his exposed nose and cheeks. He tucked the black scarf tighter around his neck and pulled the brown hat farther down his head, beginning a steady march forward as he abandoned the small path he had been walking on.

_He stood in front of it, shaking._

_His legs gave out beneath him, leaves crunching under his knees._

_He stared at the name before him, his hand slowly reaching out to it._

_He tried to grab the name, scratching at it, screaming at the top of his lungs._

_He slammed his fists against it, crying and yelling, ripping at the dead grass beneath him._

The man's eyes wandered across the land before him, the familiar bright green grass now covered with a white sheet of fluff. He shook his head; the man hated snow. It was cold and wet and reminded him of dark, familiar places. A long black coat surrounded his frame, hiding his shivering form from the world around him. His breathes came out jagged and rough, almost gasping for air as he sucked in shards of ice hanging in the air around him.

_He bowed his head, hiccupping and sniffing, attempting to compose himself._

_The man picked up the red rose he had tossed aside. One of the leaves had bent._

_He slowly began to try and fix it, shoulders bowed, singing quietly to himself._

He rubbed his black gloves against his cheeks, trying to rid them of the undeniable blush upon them. Embarrassed, he looked around making sure nobody was there to witness this. However, only angel's eyes and the blank stare of silence met his gaze, so he continued on.

_And now I'm all alone again nowhere to turn,_

_No one to go to __without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to_

_And now the night is near_

_Now I can make believe she's here_

_Sometimes I walk alone at night_

_When everybody else is sleeping_

_I think of her and then I'm happy with the company I'm keeping_

_The city goes to bed_

_And I can live inside my head_

_On my own_

_Pretending she's beside me_

_All alone_

_I walk with her till morning _

_Without her __I feel her arms around me_

_And when I lose my way I close my eyes_

_And she has found me_

The man didn't know how long it had been since he had come to this place. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Perhaps it was? It surely felt like he _lived_ a different life since then. He looked to the sky; but a white shield hid his view from the heavens. All around him was white; he felt trapped and alone. Not a single shade was seen but this pure essence. His gaze would almost slip past the bumpy texture of the rocks about him, blending into the snow so well that he accidentally smashed a hand into one of them. A hiss escaped his lips as he ripped off the glove, exposing a wide gash on his first knuckle. Blood began to ooze from the wound but he continued forward, un-phased, never breaking his stride.

_In the rain the pavement shines like silver_

_All the lights are misty in the river_

_In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight_

_And all I see is her and me forever and forever _

_And I know it's only in my mind_

_That I'm talking to myself and not to her_

_And although I know that she is blind_

_Still I say, there's a way for us_

He watched as the blood began to run down his hand and slowly drip onto the snow below him, marking his path for the world to see. The man was proud of this, this ability to bleed, so much so that he grew disappointed when the cold around him froze the blood in its tracks, leaving nothing but red paint upon his palm.

He slid the glove back in its place and continued onward.

_I love her_

_But when the night is over_

_She is gone_

_The river's just a river_

_Without her_

_The world around me changes_

_The trees are bare and everywhere_

_The streets are full of strangers_

Names surrounded him. He tried not to look at them, fearful of recognizing one of them. The man doubted he would, but he did not wish to mourn over more than he needed to. Today was meant for one purpose and one alone. He shook his head, trying not to think about why he was there, walking towards what he had already visited a thousand times over… He shook his head as he pinched the brim of his nose; oh, how he had dreaded this day, this pitiful day.

The man knew exactly why he was here. He thought back as far as he could remember, to the first time he had laid his eyes on her. A small laugh escaped his lips at the thought, and he began to whisper words that he had not uttered for years:

_I love her_

_But every day I'm learning_

_All my life_

_I've only been pretending_

_Without me_

_Her world would go on turning_

_A world that's full of happiness_

_That I have never known_

He rapidly approached his destination, far too quickly than he had wanted it to be. But he continued on, pushing past the bells and angels, trudging forth through the disgustingly white snow. The man kept his eyes to the ground as he stopped in front of the cause of his everlasting pain, his enduring suffering. He refused to look up and show the world the tears that had begun to roll down his cheeks, he refused to show the world his red eyes and burnt face.

Embarrassed and afraid, he released all of his emotions into the barely audible words,

_I love her_

_I love her_

_I love her_

He collapsed to the ground, slowly raising his eyes level with the words etched in the large stone he had refused to acknowledge for nineteen years:

_**In Loving Memory of**_

**Abigail **

_**1981 – 2002 **_

_**Pianist and Loving Friend**_

Erik's hands slowly clutched the snow around him, squeezing the last of his tears from his eyes,

_But only on my own…_

Erik slowly pulled a long red rose from the inside of his jacket, carefully resting it in front of the grave. He stood up, eyes looking to the sky, for he knew that was where Abigail really was.

"Hi, Abigail." He choked, "its b-been awhile."

A soft breeze blew by. Erik shut his eyes for a moment, feeling the wind around him, even if it was just for a moment. Somehow, he wanted to believe that it was her.

He dug his heel into the snow, "I'm sorry that I haven't come by. I just… M-miss you… _So_ much. I-I can hardly bear to be here now, seeing what you have become…" he looked down to the grave, shoving his hands in his pockets, "You were so beautiful and full of life. Now you are just this solitary rock, surrounded by death… It does not suite you, Abigail. I do not like it."

He sighed, bowing his head before looking back up to the heavens, "You were right. About everything. About the world, about life… About me. I've changed so much because of you, especially after you were gone. I had to fend for myself for awhile. I was lost and confused… I didn't know what to do or how to act anymore. I was a total mess."

Erik laughed, scratching his head before speaking again, "But then something happened. One day, about eight months after you passed away and I buried you, I was out at the market getting something. I was just walking along when I heard… I… I heard our song, Abigail. I heard our duet. It was just ringing in my mind, and somehow I knew you were around. I looked into a window and I even saw you there, just standing there, watching me. You were smiling at me. Just smiling. But the closer that I came, the less I could see you. Once I got to the window, all I saw was my own disgusting face shining back at me."

"As I stared into the window, I realized something. You will never leave me, will you?" Erik chuckled, shaking his head, "I owe you far too much for you to simply leave. Not that I would let you. I enjoy having you pester me inside my mind. Some days I can even hear your voice in my head, pestering me of my attitude or actions. I think that it was you who told me to fix myself, to be honest. So I did."

Erik rubbed the side face, completely smooth and free, "I made myself into a man even you would have liked to see, Abigail."

"I promised that I would fix you." Erik dropped his hand in shame, biting his lip before he continued, "But even now, I feel you within me. Do you think that this counts? Can you ever consider what I did for you? I no longer leave my home fearful of what others will see me as, for I am one of them now. Are you happy for me, Abigail? Do you still love me?"

Erik knelt down, taking off his hat as he whispered, "Even after what I have done? Even after I have betrayed you?..."

"Daddyyyy!" yelled a voice just as a small body slammed into Erik. He gasped, and then chuckled softly as he grabbed the neck of the small boy's green jacket before he could run away. Erik picked up his son, tossing him into the air before catching him safely into his arms.

"Don't go running around now Doug. Stay close to Papa."

The small boy's large blue eyes opened almost as wide as his enormous smile, showing off the large gap where his two front teeth should be.

"Yes Papa, Yes Papa!" he squealed as he squirmed his way out of Erik's grip, running around the nearby statues, basking in his freedom.

Erik watched the boy with the fondness only a father could produce of his son, "Oh Abigail, you would love him… He is just like you somehow. Every day he reminds me of you more and more simply because of his naturally high spirit and simple attitude… At first I was confused at these similarities, but now that I think about it, it shouldn't be that confusing after all." Erik closed his eyes, nodding his head peacefully to the child, "You look after him as you look after me, yes?"

"Is this her, Erik?" came a soft voice from behind. A smooth hand slipped it's way into his hand, and he clung to it.

"Yes." He whispered, feeling her move next to him. Erik opened his eyes, looking down at the woman beside him. A black fur hat covered the majority of her long wavy light brown hair. Her pale cheeks were burnt from the cold, and she shivered in her deep red coat that stopped just above her knees where her black boots began. She smiled sadly as she looked up to him.

"May I?"

Erik nodded.

The woman released his hand, stepping forward to rest on her knees at the foot of the grave. She gazed at the name engraved upon it, seeing the emotion and pain that it caused Erik. Pressing a hand to the markings, the woman spoke not to the stone, but to the heart.

"My name is Alicia, and I married the love of your life."

She paused, hesitating for a moment.

"Erik has told me so much about you. I have heard so many stories of your bravery and kindness, of your will to survive and to endure though every challenge that came upon you. Until the very end, Erik has told me that you stayed true to yourself, playing the piano until your dying breath. I can only regret that I could not have met you in person, for I feel that I would have loved to be friends with you. I am jealous of your wisdom and humility. I wish that I could say that I come close to touching Erik's heart as much as you have, but I dare say that I have barely scratched the surface of what you mean to him. You and Erik's love is something that I thought only existed in fairy tales; he told me of your reliance on one another, of how you supported one another though the time you spent together…"

A few tears began to appear in Alicia's eyes, but she ignored them.

"I wish that… I wish… Oh, I don't know. I simply cannot wish that I never met Erik and that you never died, and that you two lived happily ever after. I am far too selfish for that. But in a perfect world, I believe that was what was meant to be."

"But it isn't a perfect world, is it, Abigail? No. The world is far too selfish. It saw something so pure and beautiful as the love that you two shared, and it killed it with the bullet that entered your body. I believe that it was almost unnatural to have such compatible people…" Alicia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her voice began to shake, "But I want you to know something Abigail. And I want you to know that this is coming from the bottom of my heart, even though you do now know me, and I do not know you. I know that we have never been allowed the opportunity to trust one another, to laugh or cry together. We have never been allowed the chance to even consider who was the better option for Erik and who would have been able to care for him with more love and caution, because I have no doubt it would have been you, and I would have gladly stepped down."

Alicia stared at the grave, determination in her eyes, "But what I want you to know is that I have tried my hardest to live up to the level that you have set for me. I love Erik with all of the heart that I could possibly give him. He is the sun of my world, and I like to believe that I am the moon in his. While you shone as the sun in the best of his days, I pray that I will shine him through this eternal night that he lives in without you."

"I will care for Erik as long as he allows me to, and only as long as you allow me to. I pray for you to one day show me a sign of approval or disproval, for I have eagerly awaited it since the moment that Erik has told me about you."

Alicia stood, raising her head to the sky, "Abigail, I hope you are watching down on Erik now. He has become so inspiring and free, all because of you. You alone healed him of his eternal damnation simply by letting him see the light. He is healthy, no longer bound by the chains of a curse set upon him by the Devil himself. You yourself are to be blamed for this miracle, and you alone are to thank for the man that I have fallen for.

Alicia turned to a dumbfounded Erik, wrapped her arms around him and held him close. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck as he placed a warm hand upon her head.

"Thank you, Abigail. I hope to see you one day, and to return Erik to you safe and sound, where the three of us may rest in peace in one another's company as angels in the sky."

* * *

><p><strong>Love is complex and confusing. People take such a strong emotion and put it into such mushy and cheap stories, thinking that it is a play thing to be tossed around. <strong>

**I don't think this way.**

**I hope you enjoyed the ending, even though I did not go with the sappy classic ending. I chose a more confusing and complex ending, almost on the verge as unrealistic. However, I believe that Abigail and Erik living happily ever after is even more unrealistic.**

**See you all soon ^_^**


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